


Fade Into Me (I'll Fade Into You)

by elegantmoonchild



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Medical, Angst, Eventual Smut, F/M, Major Illness, Minor Character(s), Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-16 17:10:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 45,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12347016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elegantmoonchild/pseuds/elegantmoonchild
Summary: It was the worst day of his life, the kind of day every parent fears. Jughead Jones could only watch in horror as his sister, Jellybean, wrestled with a sickness that he couldn’t control. While dealing with the prognosis, Jughead couldn’t ignore the ray of hope keeping him grounded through the sadness in the form of Pediatric Oncology nurse Betty Cooper. Can he learn to love while living in a nightmare? Can she learn to put aside her insecurities and conflicting feelings to fall for the father figure of her patient?Warning: lots of angst and descriptive smut ahead.UPDATE: A coda has been added, titled "Finding Strength In You" for anyone interested in the events after the final chapter :)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So in the midst of writing another fanfic, the inspiration for this story jumped out at me and I just had to get it all out on “paper.” I didn’t realize how drawn I was to writing sad, angsty characters until I wrote “Fade Into Me,” but apparently it just calls to me. This concept has a special place in my heart, so I hope each and every one of you enjoy it. 
> 
> There are some medical terms, however I try to explain them as clearly as I can in layman’s language, so to speak. If you have any questions, feel free to ask.
> 
> Also, as I’ve found writing to music has been incredibly helpful for me in terms of production, I decided to share a little soundtrack for this story, a particular song working as the soundtrack for a particular scene. I may not have a song for each one, but I encourage those of you reading, if you’re at all interested, in listening to these songs (even if on repeat) during the particular scene as directed. I will say, the ~feels~ might not be as strong without them ;) For those astute readers out there, several of these songs come from the earlier soundtracks of “Grey’s Anatomy.” This isn’t because of the medical connection, but simply because the soundtrack for those earlier seasons was so damn good. 
> 
> I do not own the rights to the Archie Comics or Riverdale, and the content of this story is strictly from my own imagination.

**Song: “Ready to Rise” by Vaughan Penn**

_5:00 am. Beep. Beep. Beep._  


Betty Cooper slipped a lazy hand out from under the warm cavern of her soft lavender duvet, snapping her wrist back and bringing her palm down with a deft slap against the top of her insistent alarm clock. She let out a groan, the fog in her brain from sleep starting to dissipate as she realized morning had come and work was in her near future. The incubation of her bed covers was an all-too inviting feeling, and Betty nearly cried when she tore herself away, throwing back the covers dramatically. Instantly, she regretted her actions as the cold snap of the winter chill crashed against her half-naked body in a sinister wave.  


She rushed out of bed, her teeth chattering and her arms hugging her chest, taking off for the bathroom that remained a few feet away in the shadows. Once she dashed through the door frame, she slammed the door shut, flipping on the light and the heater, sighing against the immediate warmth that followed. She reached down into the basin of her simple white bathtub and turned the knob nearly all the way to the left, her showers becoming warmer with each day this winter season brought. While the water burst out, its temperature working to increase, Betty stood tall and looked into the mirror.  


Last night’s mascara still clung to her skin, drifting off of her delicate lashes and smearing along the prominent bags under her eyes. The golden downy of her hair was shoved in clumps around different sections of her neck, tousled about over the night by the tossing and turning that overtook her after a hard night of drinking. Her best friend, Veronica, had persuaded her to join her for a night on the town to celebrate a large sale she had made at her boutique. They bounced around from one of V’s favorite night clubs to the neighborhood bar that tucked itself in between other shops underneath the city lights, drinks pouring from faceless hands as they tossed them back, one after another, laughter on their lips. It had been a while since Betty had allowed herself an evening to let loose and there were no regrets, choosing to sacrifice a few extra hours of sleep for these moments with her dear friend where she could just relax and have _fun._  


Now, in the harsh dawn of the new day, Betty felt her mind might be changing just a bit. She winced as the light in the ancient urban bathroom finally reached its maximum wattage. As she crept toward the enticing warmth of the bath water, she realized her headache would have to wait. She shed the last remaining pieces of clothing she had stumbled into bed with and slunk down into the tub.  


Typically, she’d start her day off with a shower before making a breakfast acceptable for “adult” standards, filled with egg whites, turkey bacon, and her favorite citrus fruit, grapefruit. Coffee was also there. Always. Today, she’d skip the formalities and give herself time to soak in the sudsy magic she was currently enveloped in.  


Little did she know this little change in her routine wouldn’t be the only change to come her way today.  


Thirty minutes passed by before her eyes snapped open, quick to realize she had fallen asleep in the tub. Without a care for making a mess, she stood sharply, reaching out for the towel hanging on the rack on the door, and wrapped herself in the cheap JCPenney cloth while rushing to start the coffee pot in the kitchen. There was a new level of cold here, but she was running on too much adrenaline to care. After the coffee machine was warming up the water, she dashed back into her bedroom, springing for the closet and throwing the door wide open. She reached for the closest pair of scrubs she could grab and dug in the small drawer tucked inside for a clean pair of panties, today’s selection a muted color of turquoise with a golden star in the back part.  


She slipped into her clothes before diving back into the bathroom to throw her wet hair up in a tight bun. She knew once she stepped outside and met with the freezing caress of the biting city air, she’d regret her choice, but she didn’t have time to tame her locks properly with a hairdryer. She neglected to apply any powder or foundation, merely sweeping a swift brush of blush over her cheeks for color. She added another layer of mascara onto the old layer from last night over her lashes and called it good.  


By the time she had hopped into the kitchen, working to tie one of her tennis shoes, the coffee was done brewing. She slapped the top of her thermos over the hot concoction, reminding herself to doctor it with milk and sugar at the hospital when she got there, and reached up into one of her pantry cabinets for a packet of S’mores flavored Pop-Tarts. As her breakfast was lacking any nutritional components, Betty knew she’d be starving by 9 am, but she’d just have to deal with that when the time came.  


Thankfully, she had the foresight to pack a light lunch the night before, tossing tupperwares full of fresh salad and grilled chicken, pineapple chunks, and vanilla Greek yogurt into her lunch bag before running out the door to meet Veronica. Betty reached into the fridge, grabbing the bag, and scooped up the thermos before taking off out the door. Just as she had shut the door, she slammed it back open again to grab her winter coat, giving her apathetic appearing orange cat Caramel an exasperated sigh and roll of her eyes, before closing the door again and flying down the two flights of stairs to the exit of her complex. Caramel watched as she left and responded with a slow stretch of her long body, preparing herself for a light meal and another nap.  


Once Betty broke free from the building door, bracing herself for the cold that would inevitably greet her, she threw the hand with the thermos in the air to hail a cab. Luckily, one was parked and running just down the block and caught her gesture. It sailed down the street toward her, nearly to the curb when Betty flung the door open and threw herself inside. She greeted the driver with a kind smile, never one to skip out on everyday pleasantries, and gave him the address for the hospital.  


Nestled comfortably in the warm backseat of the taxi, Betty finally took a moment to relax into the sights of the city. In her little suburban section of New York, it was easy for Betty to forget just how beautiful the lights of the Big Apple could be. Even in the early hours, buildings glistened with the promise of business, another day of clocking in hours and discussions with co-workers. The streets were already aligned with cars traveling into the city, their drivers journeying to the Concrete Jungle for numerous different reasons. Sometimes, Betty liked to sit back and contemplate the stories behind each car door. The whole experience made her feel closer to humanity, though still distant enough to understand each person held a mystery she would most likely never unveil.  


She supposed that’s a major reason why she became a nurse, the chance to connect with another human in a way that many others never got the opportunity to do. For the past three years, Betty spent 36-48 hours putting in time on the Pediatric Oncology unit at one of the city’s biggest Children’s Hospitals. Despite the ever-present questions that slipped off the inquiring lips of her friends and family – _Is that job not too hard for you to handle? What about the sadness? What about the hurt children? What about the kids that never make it?_ – Betty couldn’t deny that maybe this job was where she was meant to be in the grand scheme of life.  


She had always had this uncanny ability to connect with children, often finding kids of all ages staring across a room at her, mystified before breaking into grins as wide as cheeks would allow. These soft moments, always appearing at just the right time, flooded Betty with a warmth she couldn’t describe.  


Betty also had this ability to compartmentalize death, an ability she discovered while working as a clinical assistant during her time in nursing school. Even when her favorite patients had passed, horribly, in front of her, she always found the strength to jump into action, pushing aside her sadness to make sure the patient’s body was cleaned, the hospital room sorted, the experience dignified before family would come say their goodbyes to their dearly departed loved one. Though Betty was sensitive, crying in public when she became frustrated or pissed, she grieved only in private.  


If these traits could carry over to children, Betty felt she had a duty to step in and take on that role. Not every nurse could deal with a child’s death. If she could do what was necessary to make the death a beautiful and respectful experience, she would absolutely slip into those shoes.  


If she needed to wail, needed to grieve so hard her chest would ache, she would make sure to do that within the sanctuary of the four walls of her apartment.  


Just as the cab pulled up to the front entrance of the hospital, Betty was chewing the final bite of her Pop-Tarts. She slipped the driver a handful of bills and crawled out of the car, careful to grab all of her scattered belongings. Knowing the Emergency Room entrance was closer to the elevator she would need, Betty jogged over to the sliding doors and slipped through. Just then, a man dashed beside her, carrying a bundle in his arms she couldn’t distinguish.  


He cried out, “Someone, please, help me!”  


Another nurse ran up to him as Betty turned to face the commotion.  


“She just collapsed,” he sobbed out, clearly trying to hold it together though losing an understandably difficult fight. “She just collapsed…”  


In his arms was the limp body of a nine year-old girl, her hair black and brittle looking, her skin pale and clammy. Her jaw sat slack, and though her movements were scarce, she was still responsive. Betty was just about to throw aside her lunch bag and thermos to jump in and assist, however there were already three nurses by this point working to both calm the gentleman and settle the girl onto a gurney, and she didn’t want to get in the way. Sometimes too many hands could only create more chaos.  


Betty stepped up to the elevator, taking a few paces inside before pressing the button for Floor 7. Before the doors slid shut in front of her, she captured the scene ahead one last time, a brief snapshot of the little girl leaning over the side of the gurney to vomit violently over the railing while the older man watched in horror, his hands pressed against his cheeks so tightly, they were causing the color in his face to drain away.  


\----------------------------------------------------------------

**Song: “Hear You Breathing” by Stuart Reid**

Jughead Jones felt in utter agony while squirming in the uncomfortable seat of the Emergency Room waiting room.  


The day had started out like any other. He was up early, working on putting together a lunch for his baby sister, Jellybean, while she slumbered away in the twin bed down the hall. She was supposed to be awake by then, but it was Friday and he wanted to give her an extra ten minutes to sleep in. There was always something special about Fridays for children her age. Jughead remembered the magic that the end of the school week brought, the promise of a weekend full of fun and fantasy just hours away. Plus, the two of them had stayed up late watching a TV recording of the classic “Rudolph the Red-Nose Reindeer,” and he wanted the magic of the season to last just a little longer for her.  


He had such a rough upbringing, Jughead wanted to do whatever he could, give every inch he could, to ensure her childhood was better than his. Though he was her big brother, he was the only father figure she had ever really had, and he had long ago accepted that this was the role he was meant to play.  


This may have also translated into Jughead’s lunch packing skills, smiling to himself while he packed away a “fluffernutter” sandwich into his sister’s lunch bag with a crisp apple and a bag of her favorite animal crackers. He knew the peanut butter and marshmallow crème confection would cause her to be the most popular girl around the lunch table.  


Just as he was snapping together her lunch bag, reaching over to flip on the switch for a new cup of coffee to brew, he heard the sound of two small feet and the groan that accompanied it. He expected to find Jellybean rubbing her eyes, upset about being awake and having to face another day of “boring” public education. However, when he turned to face her, his skin turned cold as ice.  


There she stood, in her long-sleeved long-john pajama pants and sleep shirt, with the most pained expression on her face. She had broken out into a sweat and her lip began to tremble. Just as she was preparing to cry, her upper body lurched forward and she spilled out the contents of their late-night snacking all over the floor.  


“Juggie…” she moaned, their eyes frozen together. She looked as if she was in so much pain she could barely stand. Just then, she vomited once more before her body crumpled to the floor.  


Immediately, Jughead leapt forward, reaching her before her head could hit the ground, and he swept her up into his arms. He ran to the door, slipping into his old tennis shoes, and grabbed the house keys he had conveniently dropped the day before in the metal swan dish that sat by the front door. In hindsight, he would have called the ambulance, but he was fortunate enough to live close enough to the hospital that his thoughts couldn’t go any further than getting her to the ER.  


Without waiting for a cab, Jughead took off down the block. He neglected to wear a coat, but had thankfully put a sweater on after rolling out of bed this morning. His shoes were tattered with a hole on the right side, the product of many years wear-and-tear, but he didn’t care. His socks were thick and his feet were moving so fast, the breeze of the chilly morning air couldn’t catch him. His wool gray crown-shaped beanie sat atop his head, warming his already heated ears, aflame with adrenaline and fear.  


When he saw the glaring lights of the Emergency Room neon sign of the Children’s Hospital, he almost wept in near joy before remembering the nightmare that was nestled over his fingertips and forearms. He looked down at Jellybean and willed away the tears that threatened to spill over. He wouldn’t give up hope. He had to be strong for her.  


He ran up the slope to the sliding door, throwing his body past the blonde that was entering, and cried out for help. Instantly, a group of nurses hustled forward, rushing to get his sister onto a hospital bed. He could only watch, a metaphorical distance that only a parent feels watching their child sit in pain, no control to take away the hurt. When she lurched forward and threw up over the hospital bed, he nearly lost it.  


And now he sat in the cold and sterile waiting room, his knee shaking so hard he had to remind himself to relax. One of the nurses was kind enough to bring him a hot cup of coffee, feeling his skin cold as ice as they transferred Jellybean’s body from his arms to the gurney. He nestled the cup in between his hands, a great distractor from running them through his hair for the fiftieth time this morning. He took another sip of the hot liquid, closing his eyes as the warmth circled down his throat. Immediately, he felt guilty for finding comfort in anything while his baby sister was just beyond the ER doors in front of him, afraid, in crippling pain, and alone without him.  


Just as he was about to leap out of the chair and lumber over to the admissions window, demanding an update on his sister’s condition, an older woman in black scrubs and a long white coat glided out of the ER doors and walked up to him, one hand clutching a coffee cup, the other extended out to greet him.  


“Mr. Jones? I’m Dr. Klempner, the Pediatric Oncologist on call today.”  


Though Jughead was a wreck of nerves underneath his flushed and frustrated skin, he was never one to be rude to a complete stranger, and she had a kind smile. He reached out and took her hand, shaking it briefly, and stood, setting his coffee cup to the side and brushing his sweaty palms against the front of his sweat pants.  


Dr. Klempner tilted her head down at him, turning back up as Jughead stood tall and stretched. “Are you hanging in there?” she inquired, offering a small casual smile, the look of pity coming through strong.  


Jughead let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding in, sighing and closing his eyes.  


“I think I’ll be okay. How’s my sister?”  


Dr. Klempner looked down briefly to the floor, her hands suddenly interested in the cup of coffee she walked up with. After what felt like minutes, she looked back up at Jughead, gesturing to a consultation room nestled off to the side.  


“Mr. Jones, do you think it’d be okay if we stepped inside this little office here, had a chat?” Her voice was kind, but his skin felt cold, his stomach dropping through his bottom and down to the floor. Realizing he had no choice but comply, desperate for answers, he nodded mindlessly, following her into the office, feeling like he was floating in a dream that was turning into a nightmare.  


\----------------------------------------------------------------

It was just after 7:30 am after Betty had received report on her two other patients, a teenage boy on his last round of chemotherapy and an infant, one out of a set of twins, being treated for an acute episode of symptoms manifested from her leukemia. She sat back in the swivel chair at the nurses’ station, stretching her arms back, finally starting to wake up after downing the last remaining contents of her thermos.  


Her headache from her night of fun had still not subsided, and she was desperate for relief. She asked around before finally one of the off-going night nurses, Tracy, had some ibuprofen to spare. She downed the three tablets with a glass of cold water, urging herself to stay hydrated throughout her shift, and loosened the bun that was pulling her hairline back tightly. Her hair was still damp, but dry enough for her to place it in her signature ponytail.  


Just as she was getting up to prepare medications and round on her patients, the charge nurse Becky drifted by the expansive desk of the station. “Betty, you’re getting a new patient in bed 19.”  


Betty threw her head back and let out a dramatic sigh. “Seriously, Beck? The day _just_ started. I haven’t even seen my other patients yet!”  


The charge nurse chuckled and continued forward, heading toward her office, and Betty knew it was a lost cause to complain. She looked at her watch, knowing she’d probably have a few extra minutes before she received the phone report from whatever unit this patient was coming from. She suspected ER as it was rare patients transferred to the Oncology unit if they were being treated for a different disease process.  


She grabbed her paper “brain” with her notes written on it from this morning’s earlier report and headed toward the medication room. She logged into the system of the big machine that held all of the drugs on the unit and pulled out the medications for her first two patients. She figured she could at least get one assessment and medication administration in before the ER called.  


As it turned out, she was dead on. Just as she was wheeling the medication computer out of the teenage patient’s room, her work phone rang, a ringtone so incessantly annoying she was surprised not one member of the hospital staff had managed to toss it against the wall. She nestled into a little cove in between patient rooms and sat on the chair, hitting the answer button on the phone, her pen poised for notes.  


Betty was getting an adolescent girl, about nine years old, with a new diagnosis of cancer. She shook her head softly, sighing into the phone her sadness that another kid was being diagnosed with leukemia. As much as sick kids kept her in a job, she hated hearing about more and more children becoming ill with such a debilitating disease. The nurse on the phone explained the patient’s vomiting episodes had subsided and she was receiving IV fluids for rehydration. The plan was to start her on chemotherapy immediately, and the provider would discuss the plan further with the nurse when she made her afternoon rounds.  


Betty hung up the phone, hoping she would have enough time to pop into the infant’s room to greet the parents before her next patient arrived. Luckily, when she peeked her head in, she saw the mother busy breastfeeding the baby, and Betty knew there would be a more opportune time to come in after her new patient showed up.  


She took the extra moment to stop into the kitchenette located in the side of the unit pod to refill her thermos of coffee. It seemed like it was going to be a two thermos coffee kind of day. She reminded herself to grab a Styrofoam cup of ice water too. Again, she needed rehydration if she was going to survive this shift. Her hangover was already starting to subside, thanks to the pills and water.  


Just as she was setting her ice water behind the desk of the nurses’ station, she heard the elevator ding and knew her time had come. She tightened her ponytail just enough to secure it and put on a smile. It was time to put on a good face for this new patient.  


\----------------------------------------------------------------

**Song: “Sunday” by Sia Furler**

Cancer. He couldn’t believe, would refuse to accept it if he didn’t understand that he needed to be an adult for Jellybean.  


He looked down at his sister, enveloped by two layers of soft hospital blankets and the thin barrier of a hospital gown. Never in his life had she seemed so small. This was Jellybean, his little JB, with an attitude larger than life.  


This was the girl who declared Saturdays as “Fort Days” in their little home, demanding he bring out every spare sheet in the apartment to blanket the entire living room to form a little world of cotton and jersey knit for them to cuddle under and watch action movies.  


This was the girl who blared classic rock in her bedroom, dancing around in her tiny space to Thin Lizzy and The Rolling Stones, not knowing the context behind the lyrics but simply moving to the beat of the drums and the strum and blast of electric guitar.  


This was the girl who begged and pleaded for her big brother to let her show up to the first day of school with an arrogant streak of pink in her dark hair, her subtle way of putting on confidence and taking on the world of public education.  


There she laid, tuckered out and sleeping softly under the prying gaze of a parent who felt completely and utterly lost. He wished beyond anything that he was in that hospital bed instead of her, that he could take on the pain that caused her so much turmoil. He wished her blood was his blood, her cells were his cells, her cancer was his cancer instead.  


Dr. Klempner had diagnosed Jellybean with Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia, or ALL as he read on the pamphlets she provided him with. It was one of the most common forms of cancer in children involving T and B cells, whatever the Hell that meant. More reading for him to do, more research on top of the research he had for work. Jughead worked as a writer. He contributed to one of the city papers with a weekly column, covering whichever topic they sent him on a hunt for, and spent the few minutes of spare time he got after putting Jellybean to bed each night writing for the novel he had been developing for half a decade now.  


The good news was that for most children, they will reach initial remission if treatment is given timely and appropriately. However, both Dr. Klempner and Jughead were worried that too much time had elapsed, and treatment may not be as effective as it would have been if he had caught it earlier.  


Chemotherapy. Growth hormone replacement. Possible blood transfusions. All of these topics scared the living shit out of him, but as he looked down at the little figure below him in that hospital bed, he realized he would face whatever medical monster he had to in order to make sure she was safe and healthy.  


And alive. The thought alone threatened to bring tears to his eyes. He shook his head, taking in a deep breath. He couldn’t go there quite yet, wouldn’t let himself go there quite yet.  


Once the elevator doors opened to the seventh floor, the clinical transporter steered the bed out into the waiting hall, Jughead following closely behind. The oncology unit was a series of giant circular pods with a nurses station located in the very middle, surrounded by various pieces of medical equipment. Though the tile floor was cold and the walls wafting with the smell of “hospital,” this particular part of the hospital felt welcoming. There were scenes painted on the walls, some of aquamarine creatures swimming and smiling, some with tall castles that climbed to the ceiling, others filled with planets and spaceships, happy little aliens waving from vessels drifting through the stars.  


If Jellybean was going to be in the hospital for a long period of time, at least there was happiness painted all around her.  


The transporter led the hospital bed into an empty room, curtains thrown wide open to let in the sun, already risen since their arrival at the ER. This particular patient room was jungle-themed, a perky little panther peeking out of a tall patch of grass near the entrance to the bathroom suite located in the back of the room. Jughead noticed even the ceiling had stars painted on it, perfect for night time or afternoon naps.  


Just as the transporter put the bed into park, locking the brake and giving Jughead and the sleeping Jellybean a wave and smile goodbye, a perky blonde entered, rubbing her hands together with a pump of the hand sanitizer located outside of each patient’s room.  


Before she could even say a word, Jughead couldn’t help admire how beautiful she was. Her hair, the color of golden flax, swept back and forth across the expanse of her neck as she moved. Her skin was glowing, her entire vibe he would consider as _special_. Her eyes, green as the grass painted on the walls, trapped him and he had to take a moment to suck in air to greet her with.  


“Hello there, Mr. Jones? My name is Betty. I’m going to be your daughter’s nurse today.” She smiled politely and turned to face the slowly stirring Jellybean who appeared to have woken up from her slumber somewhere between her emersion into the jungle scene and Betty’s entrance.  


“This must be Miss Forsynthia?” Betty asked, her hands settled softly on her hips, offering Jellybean a warm and welcome greeting. Jellybean made a face as she moved to sit up, half-discomfort, half-annoyance at the use of her real name. Jughead was quick to correct Betty.  


He lifted his hand up to brush the back of his neck and chuckled. “She goes by Jellybean, or JB, actually. Just a nickname that stuck. And I’m not her dad. I’m actually her big brother.” He threw out a hand for her to shake.  


“You can call me Jughead,” he smiled. “Another nickname that stuck.”  


Betty looked taken aback for the briefest of moments at the unique nicknames, but smiled, quick to put her polite face back on.  


“Well then, Miss Jellybean it is!” She turned to face him. “And nice to meet you, Jughead.”  


She walked around the room to reach the monitor that extended from the wall. As she gathered up the cords to take Jellybean’s vital signs, she glanced over to take in Jughead’s overall appearance.  


She could admit he was an attractive man. There were several of them that came through on this unit, many of them single dads. As much as she missed being with someone significant, she would never allow herself to give in to the offer for a drink or cup of coffee, feeling a bit _skuzzy_ about hitting on a dad with a sick kid. She hated being lonely, but she couldn’t take advantage of another person’s vulnerability that way.  


Despite the underlying basics of attractiveness that came through, there were many aspects of Jughead’s appearance that told her he needed a shower and some fresh clothing. She recognized him as the man from the ER, and she could guess that he didn’t think to grab any personal belongings for him or Jellybean before rushing to the hospital.  


“You know, Jughead, we are just going to take some basic vital signs and get Jellybean set up here in her room. If you need to run home and grab anything, she’s stable.” She smiled at him, then looked back down at Jellybean and winked. “She’s in good hands.”  


Jughead looked down at the ground, warring with the guilt of not wanting to leave with the temptation of running home for a hot shower. He tugged at the sleeves of his sweater, still unsure of what to do.  


A clinical assistant came in to help with the admission, and Betty handed her the monitor cords, asking her to hook Jellybean up and procure a blood pressure. She then stepped over to Jughead, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.  


There was a soft crackle of electricity between them from the contact, though both were unsure if it was from the pressure in the atmosphere or mere karmic chemistry. Betty exhaled softly and he turned his head up to look at her.  


“You know, Jellybean’s going to need you in a way she’s probably never needed her big brother before. That means it’s important to take care of yourself too.” He looked back down at the ground, beginning to understand her message.  


“Is there anything at your house that Jellybean finds comfort in? A stuffed animal she sleeps with, a favorite pair of pajamas? A favorite book?” she continued. “It’s crucial in her healing that she have something close by that provides her with comfort. Chemo can be a traumatizing experience. She’s going to need some happiness to get her through it.”  


He stayed silent for a minute. Betty started to feel uncomfortable, worrying she chose the wrong approach with this family member, before he finally spoke up.  


“Dinosaurs.”  


She looked back at him, imploring him to face her. He turned and caught her gaze. “Dinosaurs. JB’s a big fan of dinosaurs.” He sighed, resigning. “I’ll bring some of her things up here. I guess we’re probably in it for the long haul. It would be good for her to have a bit of home here with her.”  


Betty smiled instantly, glad he caught on. “I think that’s a good idea. Don’t worry, we will take _excellent_ care of your sister. She’s going to be okay.” As she stared into his eyes, big and blue and completely lost, she said something she never says to any parent with a sick child.  


“I promise.”  


He nodded, grateful for her words, grateful for her comfort, grateful for her rationalization. She was right. If he was going to be the caretaker Jellybean needed, he would need to make sure he took care of himself too. This included staying fever or cold-free. He needed to be more bundled up, with better clothes and better shoes.  


“Thank you…” he drew out, forgetting her name. He looked down at her name badge. "Elizabeth."  


“Betty. You can call me Betty,” she offered, smiling lightly at him.  


He smiled back. “Thank you Betty. I won’t be long. Please, please call me if something happens in the meantime.”  


He gave her his cell phone number, which she wrote on the Care Board in the room with a dry erase marker, and trudged along toward the doorway. He stopped to give JB a kiss on the forehead, something he knew she hated but he thought was appropriate considering the circumstances.  


Before he left, he turned to look once more in the doorway at his sister, sitting up and looking more like normal JB, talking animatedly with Betty, smiles spreading across both of their faces.  


As he walked away, he had no idea he was walking forward into a future he would never have imagined.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was the worst day of his life, the kind of day every parent fears. Jughead Jones could only watch in horror as his sister, Jellybean, wrestled with a sickness that he couldn’t control. While dealing with the prognosis, Jughead couldn’t ignore the ray of hope keeping him grounded through the sadness in the form of Pediatric Oncology Nurse Betty Cooper. Can he learn to love while living in a nightmare? Can she learn to put aside her insecurities and conflicting feelings to fall for the father figure of her patient?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next installment, coming in hot. Thank you to everyone who sent comments or kudos or just genuinely liked the first chapter. I may have mentioned before that this story has a special place in my heart. I poured a lot of my soul into it, so to speak, so it means a lot to hear that it's being well received.
> 
> Again, medical jargon ahead. If anyone has any questions, please feel free to ask. I'm also on tumblr: elegantmoonchild if anyone wants to hit me up there. I'm so appreciative of this fandom, you have no idea.
> 
> I do not own the rights to the Archie Comics or Riverdale, and the content of this story is strictly from my own imagination.

After a long, hot shower, Jughead began to feel a bit more human. As the water spilled from the shower head above him, he curled up at the bottom of the tub, crying and wailing and grieving at the top of his lungs, grateful for the sounds of the spray to drown out his torment. He poured himself out, feeling as if every inch of his body where a tear could have hidden, had emptied out of him, drifting in a torturous swirl toward the tub drain. He prayed the water could wash away his sins, could forgive whatever wrongs he may have done to put his baby sister in the position she was in right now. 

There was a part of him that wanted to blame their father, the man that nearly drank himself to death more than once. He wanted to blame their mother, the one who gave birth to a beautiful surprise bundle of joy before abandoning her to start a new life far away from the confines of New York and their volatile home life in the trailer park. Jellybean had not been planned, but Jughead couldn’t understand how anyone could have looked down at her and not fallen in love. 

The two children only had each other, and Jughead could only be grateful his mother had enough care to wait a year into Jellybean’s birth when Jughead turned 18 to take off, securing a legal guardian to take care of her daughter. 

As he gathered up the strength to turn off the hot water and crawl out of the tub, Jughead wondered if he would ever feel completely normal again. His life was not “normal” by any standard, but he knew he and JB had made quite the little home for themselves here in one of the boroughs of the city. Their apartment was not massive by any means, but it had two bedrooms and a bathroom that they shared. The kitchen was sizable, and the fire escape attached to their living room gave them a direct path to the roof, where they had spent summer evenings looking through the homemade telescope he had crafted for her seventh birthday. Their furniture wasn’t grand, but it was homey and comfortable, and that meant more to Jughead than any price tag. 

As he walked into the living room, towel wrapped around his waist, he surveyed the space and could almost imagine their movie night the evening before. 

They had laid out one of his old camping blankets in the middle of the living room, gathered around by their spread of absolute junk food indulgence: popcorn balls covered in a thin layer of dried sugary syrup, cookies in the shape of Christmas trees, and mugs of hot chocolate overflowing with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles. _Always chocolate sprinkles_ , Jughead thought with a grin. They didn’t normally eat that terribly, but it was a special occasion. It was the night before Friday, the last Jellybean would have before her class broke for the month-long Christmas break. Jughead had even turned the A/C on, allowing them both to bundle up in big coats and mittens to simulate true winter weather while watching Rudolph earn his place at the front of Santa’s sled. The two of them had laughed, truly a crazy pair, at their idea to bring the outdoors inside, but that’s just how they were: spontaneous, wild, and _fun_. 

Jughead didn’t know much of fun as a kid growing up. The only fun he found was through the welcoming front doors of his best friend Archie’s house. For most of his childhood, Jughead’s parents fought over the bills, fought over money, fought over his father’s drinking. The few tender moments he had shared with either his mom or dad stuck with him, almost making the pain of their sparsity that much worse. He promised himself Jellybean would have fun every day of her life, doing whatever he could, pulling whatever stunt he had to pull, to get that little girl to laugh. 

When she was just a baby, he had been the one to change her diapers, clean her spit-up, and put her to bed each night. At the confusing age of 17, Jughead had already become a parent to his baby sister, putting an end to his long game nights with Archie or their adventures in the woods of their neighborhood. He found he had to grow up quickly, much too quickly, and he didn’t want that for Jellybean. He wanted to put off her growing up as long as he could. 

His hands shook lightly as he searched through her bedroom for a few pairs of her favorite pj’s, making sure to snatch her stuffed toy T-Rex, aptly named Mr. Cuddles, that sat precariously on the edge of her crumpled bedsheets. He remembered giving her that cotton-filled companion a warm spring night three years ago when the fair came to their borough. He spent way too much money on tickets to win her that damn prize, but it was worth it just to hear her scream in excitement and imitate the sound and stature of a T-Rex right there in the middle of the fairgrounds. She had grown a few sizes since then, but her love for dinosaurs hadn’t changed. 

He hustled into his bedroom, rushed by his anticipation to get back to the hospital and get back to Jellybean as soon as he could. He threw back the top drawers of his dresser and pulled out a couple extra pairs of underwear and a handful of matching sock couplets. He threw them into a duffel bag with three pairs of sweat pants and a small stack of t-shirts, all with different logos stitched or pressed onto the front. 

There, beside the bed, sat a framed photo of him and Jellybean from when they were younger, JB just four years-old and Jughead looking more youthful than he had felt in years. They were at a drive-in theater somewhere outside of the city where he had taken her to watch an old Disney movie, the lights of the city behind them in the rearview as they munched on snacks and laughed at the childlike jokes on the big screen. It was one of his favorite memories of Jellybean, when he finally realized he was in charge of this little girl’s whole world, when he had the power to bring her the happiness he had been spared as a child. He slipped the picture out of the frame and set it inside the duffel. 

He reached into his closet, looking for an appropriate sweater to bring up to the hospital, before his fingers fell across a familiar leather jacket. It had been tucked away, a painful reminder of the poor choices of his father. He couldn’t bring himself to destroy the thing, a giant logo of a serpent patched onto the back. Despite whatever thoughts he held about the man, FP II was still his father. 

You can’t just erase blood, no matter how much you wish you could. 

Without wasting too much time reminiscing on the past, Jughead finally settled for a generic old deep gray sweater, nothing fancy on the front. He tucked the sweater onto the top of the rest of his clothing and assorted toiletries in his duffel and zipped the bag shut. He reached for a clean pair of jeans that hung over a disregarded chair in the corner of his room and slipped them on. He completed the look with a faded Pink Floyd concert tee and padded jean jacket. 

Before he slipped out back into the world of cancer and chemo and all of the new realities he would have to face, he paused to take one final look in the mirror by the front door. He adjusted his beanie, his symbol of security since he was six, and took a long slow exhale. 

He had grown so much since then, but fear always found a way to catch up. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------

Saturday evening, Betty found herself situated awkwardly on her couch, tucked over her knees in an attempt to patch up a spot of her nail polish that she had accidentally smudged on the living room rug. Her cell phone was glued to her ear, nestled between her neck and shoulder, and she could hear the mild ramblings of a peppy 26 year-old Veronica shouting back at her through the receiver. 

Her eyes narrowed as she considered her friend’s narrative and replied back, a sigh heavy on her breath, “But V, you know it’s never a good idea to mix business with pleasure. Besides, what do you really know about this Max guy, anyway?” 

Veronica was quick to respond, anxious to make her point, “Well, for one, I think he’s absolutely gorgeous. Two, he thinks _I’m_ absolutely gorgeous. Plus, his family is loaded.” 

Betty chuckled lightly. To Veronica, money was worth its weight in terms of dating pool contenders. Her best friend since college had a reputation for being incredibly picky when it came to choosing suitors. They had to have the right physique, the right breeding, the right president on the right kind of bill. Throughout the years, Betty had sat back and watched as Veronica had jumped from guy to guy, never quite settling for a serious match with anyone in particular. As Veronica would explain, there was always a little something missing from the picture. 

Betty would have guessed substance, but she didn’t quite have the gumption to tell Veronica just how she felt. 

She could hear Veronica take in a sharp inhale, a classic sign that she was anxious to change the subject. 

“Well, what about you, B? Tell me more about this patient and her smokin’ hot big brother.” She giggled in delight and anticipation. 

Betty cringed inwardly, wishing she had never mentioned the sad story of Jellybean and her overly worrisome older sibling, of which the encounter had left her a bit more frazzled than expected. 

“Well, the girl’s adorable, spunky as all get-out.” She paused before continuing, “And yes, the brother is quite attractive, but you know I don’t date my patients, V.” 

“But he’s not your patient, B. His sister is.” 

“Yeah, but in the world of Ped’s, your patient is both the child and the parent.” 

“B…” Veronica hesitated, leaving a giant opening for Betty to become anxious. She knew where this conversation was heading. “Don’t you think it’s time you got out there, opened yourself up to the possibilities? It’s been two years since Trev. Don’t you think it’s time you got back up on the horse?” She chuckled, “Hell, at least get yourself laid.” 

Betty sat up straight, nearly dropping the phone, and set aside the nail polish applicator. She was immediately on the defense. “Hey now, it’s not like I’m some dry, hopeless desert. There was that one guy at The Flaming Jack.” 

“You mean the guy who kept ordering kamikazes and wore a bright red Hawaiian shirt?” There was a hint of tease, a hint of sarcasm lacing her words. 

Betty frowned. “He wasn’t that bad…” she muttered as she thought back to the night eight months ago where, in some desperate need of skin-on-skin contact, she had picked up a guy from a local bar and brought him back to her place. 

“Ugh, fine, you’re right V. He was pretty lowsy. But shit, the well is dry around these parts. I’m still not thirsty enough to take home the parent of someone whose kid is dying. I’m not a complete monster.” 

Veronica laughed, giving up her efforts. “You’re absolutely hopeless, Betty. Well, if you change your mind about the whole ‘blind date’ thing, remember I still have Jason waiting in the wings, _desperate_ to take you out to dinner.” 

Betty sighed internally. Veronica had been dropping hints for months now about the brother of one of her shop designers. Apparently, he was tall, gorgeous, with flaming red hair and a wide beaming pearly white smile. And because it was Veronica doing the pimping, she less than subtly hinted he came from a wealthy family. 

“Come on, B. You’d be set for life. No more sad kids, no more working long hours into the night or waking up at the crack of dawn.” 

“Hey -- I love my job!” Betty exclaimed. Just then, the other end of the line was beeping, signaling another call. 

“Oh hey, I’ve gotta go V. I’ll give you a call tomorrow after work. We’ll go get drinks or something.” 

“You better promise, Betty Cooper… No more bailing.” 

Betty chuckled, “Okay, I promise. Also, I seem to remember not bailing on you the other night when we were five shots deep at the bar.” 

Veronica laughed and Betty smiled, making a quick exit off of the call, and hurriedly switching to the incoming line. 

“Hello?” 

“Elizabeth, this is your mother. Remember her? The person you keep forgetting to call, forgetting to check up with?” 

Betty registered the shrill voice on the other line as Alice Cooper, her overbearing and overstressed mother. Betty did a quick recheck of her brain to remember when she had last reached out and checked in with her mom. With a painful wince, knowing the nagging would come, she remembered it had been nearly two weeks since she had spoken to either of her parents. 

“I’m sorry, mom. Things have been hectic lately. I’ve just been incredibly swamped with work and I feel like I haven’t been getting enough sleep.” 

“Yes, I can see that. It’s hard to sleep when you stay up at all hours of the night, dancing and drinking with your friends.” 

Betty winced again, hearing the sarcasm drip off her mother’s tongue like maternal poison. So her mother had seen the Facebook photos Veronica had posted a couple of days ago from their bar hopping excursion. _Great_. 

_When did it become a good idea to accept your mother’s friend request, Betty?_ she mentally asked herself. She knew why, of course. How was she going to say no to Alice Cooper? When has she ever been able to say no to Alice Cooper? With the word “no” came consequences, came the nagging and the eventual cold shoulder. As much as Betty hated the overbearance of her mother’s maternal techniques, she hated disappointing Alice more than anything. 

Betty reached up and ran a hand through her naturally wavy locks. “Veronica had invited me out for _one_ night to celebrate a milestone from her shop. I swear, I haven’t even had the time recently to see her so I felt I owed her a night. It really has been a while since I’ve gone out. I’ve pretty much been a homebody this entire winter season.” 

“How _is_ Veronica’s boutique doing?” Alice asked pointedly. “You know, I always thought she would amount to the same lazy future her mother had landed on -- wealthy husband, no real substantial career. I have to give Veronica credit, though. She really has made a name for herself.” 

Betty was shocked at her mother’s near-complimentary speech about her best friend. Even though Betty and Veronica had met in college, by chance of fate their mothers had gone to high school together in the tiny New York suburb of Riverdale. To say Alice and Hermione’s relationship had been contentious would be an understatement, but to B & V it was just another sign that their friendship was fated. However, Alice Cooper had made it a habit of turning her nose up at Veronica every time she showed up for a family event with Betty. Consider it a defense mechanism. She had just expected the young Lodge daughter to be just as much of a stuck-up brat as her mother. 

Unfortunately, as Betty had recognized, Alice commenting on the success of anyone other than her own daughter usually did not bode well for Betty. She could feel the headache coming on as her mother cleared her throat. 

“Sometimes, when I get really upset, Elizabeth, I just think back to the days when you were studying journalism at Columbia, before you decided to switch to _nursing_.” Betty could hear the disdain swirling sickly sweet through the receiver. “You had such a spark that shined through your writing. So many people knew your name, knew the passion you had for justice, the lust you had for the truth. I was always so proud of you, proud enough to bring a copy of your columns up to The Register.” 

Betty could recall how her mother would bring clippings of her articles from the university paper up to the family-owned local digest, the Riverdale Register. However, Betty didn’t remember Alice showing _that_ much pride in her work at the time. It had seemed since Betty switched career paths, her mother’s tune had conveniently changed. 

“But then I remember that you decided to give up on that dream, and my mood decides to take a turn.” Betty could hear the tone in her mother’s voice. She wanted her daughter to feel guilty, but Betty Cooper refused to regret the choices she made for her own adult self. 

She pinched together the skin between her brows, anxious to feel anything other than the growing headache and disappointment boiling within her. 

“Well it’s a good thing I had a mother that taught me to succeed at whatever dream I chased,” Betty replied. She wasn’t going to fight with her mother. Not tonight. 

“Look, mom, I really have to go. It’s getting late and I have to be up in less than six hours for my shift. I’ll call you later, though, okay?” 

She could hear Alice Cooper let out a deep sigh on the other end. Finally, a resignation. 

“Give dad my love, too. I love you.” 

“I love you too, Elizabeth. Have a good night. Make sure to wash your face.” 

_Classic mom talk_ , Betty thought with a laugh as she clicked off the receiver, standing tall to stretch before tossing her phone onto the couch lightly. 

As she made her rounds putting the house to bed for the evening -- washing up the dishes from her frozen pizza dinner, scrubbing down the counters, and snuffing out the candles in her living room -- she reflected back on her mother’s comments about her future. She hated that there was a part of herself that doubted whether or not she made the right choice switching from journalism to nursing. As any intelligent person with a vast appeal for knowledge would admit, it was hard for her to stay put with one idea for long. However, there was a part of her that just felt connected to the world of caregiving. 

Perhaps it all stemmed from her experiences with Polly, going in and out of hospitals with her parents to visit her ailing older sister. Polly had been born with a chronic disease, cystic fibrosis, which left her at the mercy of hospital care several times a year. She’d have a flare up, and there they would be, the entire Cooper clan taking up a large section of the hospital waiting room to visit the eldest daughter. It occurred to Betty that Polly’s health was somewhat of a miracle. She was still alive and nearly 30, which is rare for many patients with that disease. Her parents had long grown tired of the constant caretaking and had placed Polly in a group skilled nursing facility, where they could manage her symptoms and keep her comfortable. Betty made it a point to visit her sister at least once or twice a month, bringing her a new stuffed bear or warm batch of cookies with each social call. 

As Betty’s mind began to wander, she understood the connection she had felt with Jughead earlier. They both had sisters that were sick, both of them seemingly taking on the lion’s share of the caretaking. It wasn’t hard to see that she empathized with him. _That was it_ , Betty thought. _That has to be the reason why I feel so close to this guy_. There was no other way to rationalize it that could make sense. Betty hardly knew Jughead, had hardly spent more than a couple of minutes discussing anything beyond medical jargon with him. It was hardly enough to explain the spark she felt anytime she was near him. 

She had managed to brush and floss her teeth, scrub her face, and slip under her sheets while sifting through this conclusion. It put her mind at ease, realizing she would most likely be assigned to Jellybean again tomorrow. Betty drifted into sleep, clinging to the realization that her magnetic pull to her patient’s older brother was a product of their misfortunate similarities. 

Not the nearly undeniable pull of an attractive man with a golden heart. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------

 _It was way too early to be woken up on a Sunday_ was the first thought that came to Jughead’s mind as he rolled over on the firm pull out mattress of the hospital couch. While buried beneath the covers, he checked his watch to find it was just before 8 am. He sighed to himself, realizing 8 am wasn’t really that early. 

Unfortunately, both he and Jellybean had been up all night. The chemotherapy had taken a toll on her little body and she had thrown up every single thing she had eaten off of her dinner tray, quivering until her limbs fell back weak and sweaty against the sheets. Jughead felt helpless, wishing he could crawl into the hospital bed with her to comfort her. As a kid, she always loved it when he would curl up next to her and run a cold washcloth over her head when she came home from school sick with a stomach bug. 

He could hear the rustling of sheets and immediately feared his sister was going to be sick again. He sat up sharply from the couch, expecting to find Jellybean crawling out of the bed in a rush toward the bathroom, but instead what he found was a hunched over Betty, running her keen eyes over the skin of his younger sister, searching for symptoms he didn’t recognize. 

She caught his movement in her peripheral and her eyes snapped forward. Jughead sat, his blue eyes appearing black in the curtained shadows of the hospital room, his knees dangling over the edge of the couch mattress. He wore a pair of navy blue sweat pants and a plain gray t-shirt with a capital “S” on the front. The beanie she had assumed was one of his wardrobe staples rested cockeyed on top of his tousled hair. Betty felt the nerve endings in her fingertips start to tingle, but she brushed it off. She had to remember he was nothing more than a worried sibling to a very sick sister. 

She flashed him a simple grin and whispered softly, careful not to wake up the undisturbed Jellybean beneath her, “Sorry to wake you up. The nurse before said she noticed some small red spots developing on Jellybean’s arms.” 

Jughead rested his feet to the ground and stood, stretching wide before joining her at bedside. He leaned down beside her to investigate JB’s skin. After a few awkward seconds, he whispered back, “What exactly am I looking for?” 

Betty let loose a muffled laugh and replied, “It’s called petechiae. They’re little red pinpricks under the skin caused by bleeding. They’re a common symptom with ALL.” She surveyed the rest of Jellybean’s upper limbs and called it good for now. No reason to wake a child that was comfortably sleeping. 

As she pulled the sheet back up to cover JB’s arms, she suddenly became uncomfortably aware of how close she was standing to Jughead. Anxious to break the tension, she worked to fill the space with conversation. 

“So I heard you two had a rough go of it last night.” 

Jughead, also acutely aware of the lack of measurable distance between himself and the blonde beauty beside him, reached up with his arm and scratched the back of his head, a lazy gesture he usually did when he felt nervous. “Yeah, she was sick all night. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a kid puke that much in my life.” 

The air was light for once, and Betty was thankful he had finally learned to relax a little. She broke free from their proximity and traveled to the Care Board, updating each section with information pertaining to her shift. 

Jughead would later rationalize it as a desire to not disturb Jellybean, but the pull he felt for Betty had him following her as she walked toward the exit of the hospital room. Just as she was pivoting to turn around to tell him she’d be back with JB’s medications, she landed smack into the hard planes of his chest. In a flash of instinct, he grabbed hold of her arms to hold her still, saving her from a nasty fall backwards. 

It took her a moment, but eventually she lifted her chin to make eye contact with him. There he stood, a great half a foot taller than her, with eyes that finally appeared blue in the light of the open doorway. They appeared half-glazed, as if he was still attempting to wake up, but the tension in them she couldn’t miss. His jaw tightened briefly, then relaxed, and he cleared his throat. 

“Are you okay?” he asked. Betty nodded softly, somewhat lost still in the mixed emotions swirling around in the deep sapphire of his eyes. 

“I’m sorry, I was just going to ask you about JB’s treatment plan for the day.” 

Suddenly realizing her predicament, she shook her head to release the hold she felt from him, clearing out any unwelcome thoughts that had begun to crawl into her brain. She took a hearty step backward. 

“I’m fine. Thank you for catching me. These hospital rooms are never big enough.” She nervously chuckled, reaching back to smooth the stray pieces of hair that threatened to escape her tightly wound ponytail. 

He stood there staring at her, cocking his head to the side as if he were waiting on her. Finally, he prompted, “So, uh, Jellybean… what’s on the menu for her today?” 

Betty exhaled softly, remembering he had asked about JB’s treatment plan. “Well, she had her first round of chemotherapy yesterday. We typically start patients off on a weekly cycle. She will get another round today and then the next few following days before she goes into a rest period for a couple of weeks. The physician has ordered at least two cycles of chemotherapy before evaluating the effectiveness of the treatment.” 

Jughead looked down at his feet and Betty could tell he was visibly nervous about asking the next question. 

“Will my sister be able to leave this hospital?” 

Betty let out another soft sigh in thought, pursing her lips to the side as if considering the facts. This question was always a hard one for her to answer, the unpredictability of health clouding her ability to estimate. In the end, she shrugged and offered him a comforting smile. “It will really have to depend on what the doctor says. If she handles the first week of rest well without any serious adverse reactions or without developing an infection, they may send her home with instructions to go to an outpatient facility for chemo.” 

Jughead wasn’t sure how to respond to this conclusion, though he could recognize it was at least a better answer than “no.” 

They stood there, the pause in their conversation becoming more and more pregnant by the second. Betty could sense he had so many more questions to ask. She had a feeling Jughead was just afraid of what some of her answers might be. 

In an effort to maintain her reputation as a comforting and compassionate nurse, she reached out and laid a hand on his arm, offering her own source of healing touch. 

“Jughead, chemo is Hell, but we’re all pulling for your sister to make it through. She’s got a great team working behind the scenes to keep her healthy, and she’s got an amazingly supportive big brother. This isn’t going to be easy, but we are going to do everything we can to get her better and out of this hospital.” 

He looked up at her then, appreciating her ability to be honest and frank. He nodded, his eyes looking back toward the ground, apprehension still spread all over his face. Betty tightened her grip, just enough to bring him back to her. 

When his eyes met hers, she thought what he thought, felt what he felt, and found her answer was just what he needed to hear. “I promise I will keep you informed every step of the way. I will not leave you behind.” 

He let out a big breath he didn’t realize he was holding, and without thought he reached over and pulled her in for a hug. 

Betty was taken aback, the feel of her chest pressed against the underside of his collarbones causing an uneasy flush to spread across her cheeks. It wasn’t unusual for a family member to express their gratitude in such a fashion. Fear made everyone vulnerable. It was the way her body felt molded to his, a fit so unexpected and random she didn’t know quite how to respond. Though she was no stranger to hugs, she didn’t always come across a hug that felt this natural. 

Nor did she ever encounter a hug that lingered as long as this one. 

They broke apart after a few seconds, and she could visibly see Jughead was shaken, though it could easily be explained as a reaction to the worry he carried for his sick sister sleeping in the bed 10 ft away. 

“There’s, uh, hot coffee that I just brewed in the kitchenette over there if you’d like a fresh cup.” It was a small consolation prize that she could offer for waking him up so early. Jughead smiled, his thoughts clearly somewhere else. 

“Thank you, Betty.” 

And with his reply, she turned on her heel and headed for the medication room. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------

**Song: “Where Does the Good Go?” by Tegan and Sara**

Fried chicken strips or healthy green garden salad. There didn’t seem to be much of an in-between in the lunch selections down at the hot meal line in the cafeteria. Betty began to reach for the chicken strips, but told herself she wasn’t prepared to deal with the heartburn that accompanied the grease-filled delicacy. In the end, she chose a garden salad with toppings selected from the salad bar and a large cup of fresh melon. And a small bag of chocolate-covered dried cherries. 

_Balance_. 

As she inched her way down the line toward the cash register, she watched as Jughead made his way into the large eating space, a look of lost painted all over his face. She observed him pace from food bar to food bar, his expression indicating that nothing sounded good to him. When he turned to the far corner of the cafeteria, instantly there was a look of clarity that jumped up into a smile and he made his way straight to the burger bar. 

Betty paid for her purchase and found a seat at a table located next to a large floor-to-ceiling pane of glass. Outside, the view was spectacular, a hidden gem of a garden located in the heart of the hospital. Nestled in between the four brick barriers of the building sat a wild garden of green, large bushes filled with buds of all shades, tall reeds and colored stones, all surrounding a magnificent labyrinth made of hedges in the shape of various animals. There was a waterfall that flowed crystal clear liquid into a large basin with blue glittery tiles that glistened when the sun hit the little oasis just right. There were play areas for the children and their families, various outdoor toys and structures for careful climbing, and picnic tables for kids to devour their snacks while their parents watched with cautious, yet cheerful eyes. 

It amazed Betty that she never took advantage of the space, never found herself taking five minutes each lunch break to relax amongst the nature and soak up the necessary vitamin D. As she took a stab at her salad and brought it to her lips to chew, she reflected on how fortunate she was to work somewhere so beautiful with such a beautiful and positive cause. Her mother would never be right about this. Betty knew she made the right decision to become a nurse. 

A styrofoam cup filled with dark black liquid and a polystyrene tray covered with an overloaded burger and a mountain of fries was set in front of her, and before she could distinguish the hungry tray holder from the overwhelming amount of food, she heard a voice clear. 

“Is it okay if I sit with you?” 

Jughead slid into the seat across from her, taking a moment to toss her a quick smile after she nodded in reply. He turned his head to look out the window, and she could see a sparkle start to form. 

“JB would love this place.” He chuckled, “I imagine the little shit would be climbing all over those hedges.” He turned to face her and the smile on his face was genuine and true. Betty felt a swift squeeze over her heart and suddenly found herself overly interested in the distribution of spinach leaves from the carrot slivers in her salad. 

“Does Jellybean like to explore?” Betty took another bite of her lunch and turned her attention toward him, waiting for his reply, hoping that sparkle would stay just a little bit longer. 

Jughead obliged, sharing stories for the next few minutes about his sister’s ever-growing love for adventure and mischief. He told her about the day she cut her knee on a lightbulb, falling from the couch during an imaginative war with a pirate gang, knocking over a cheap table lamp during the skirmish. He reminisced about a night he found her curled up on the roof of their apartment building, wrapped up in blankets while mapping out the constellations above. 

Betty watched, her heart beginning to pick up in tempo, as his face lit up with memories of his ailing sister before she became so sick she didn’t want to eat. 

“That’s how I know something’s gotta be up with JB. Us Jones’ know how to eat.” He gestured to the pile of food on his tray and she laughed. 

“Coffee and a burger? How can that combination even remotely taste good together?” 

He smiled back at her and explained, “It’s a little snapshot of Americana straight on a plate. The only thing we’re missing is a slice of cherry pie.” 

She was hit with an idea and reached into the front pocket of her scrubs, pulling out the chocolate-covered dried fruit she had bought earlier. 

“It may not be pie, but at least it’s got cherries.” She grinned, ripping open the package before popping one of the bites into her mouth, offering the bag out for him to indulge. 

Jughead looked at her for a second, taken aback by her playful nature, and reached into the bag to retrieve a single piece of candied perfection. 

“Thanks.” 

They sat in silence for another few minutes, finishing up the last few pieces of their meal. Betty looked down at her watch and was happy to find she had a few minutes left in her break to sit back and digest her lunch. Jughead was chewing the last French fry on his plate, grabbing a napkin and transferring the grease from his fingers onto it. He looked back outside through the glass for a moment and the world inside his eyes became distinctly more focused. 

“Is this my fault, Betty? Could I have caused this… this cancer?” 

She looked at him speechless for a moment, not quite knowing what to say. 

He continued, still staring outside the window lost in thought, “I know you don’t know me at all, know nothing about my parenting skills or who I am as a man, but how do I explain this to myself? How do I explain any of this to my sister?” He clutched the napkin tighter, searching for something to displace his emotional pain onto. “How could I have not seen this?” and she heard his voice break. 

Out of pure instinct, she reached across the table and laid her hand on top of his. “Jughead, you can’t beat yourself up about this. Kids get sick. It happens, and it’s incredibly unfortunate. This doesn’t have to define who you are as a parent, though.” 

He sat absorbing her thoughts, the hand beneath hers relaxing just enough for her to notice, just enough for her to realize she was getting through. 

She cleared her throat and continued. “You’re right – I don’t know the kind of man you are or what kind of parenting skills you bow down to, but from what I’ve seen I can tell you care so much about Jellybean. That really does make a difference. With her, it makes a difference.” He turned to face her, his hand making the slightest effort to turn over and brush against the bottom of hers, palm to palm. She brushed her thumb at the crease where his palm met his wrist and smiled a reassuring smile. 

“You have a rough road ahead, I won’t sugarcoat it for you. She’s really going to need you. I don’t know your family’s circumstances, but you _will_ have to be her father. You’ll have to be her mother, you’ll have to be her everything. She’s going to go through so many changes, and when her hair starts falling out, you can’t panic. You’re going to have to be brave, put on a tough face. I don’t know the kind of man you are, Jughead, but you need to be the kind of man JB knows.” 

At the risk of going too far, Betty offered his hand one last squeeze before removing it from the table. “You have the support of everyone on the unit, including me.” 

Jughead took a long moment, holding onto her gaze with an embrace of sadness mixed with gratitude. “I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad you’re here with me… with Jellybean. She seems to really respond to you.” 

Betty blushed, though it wasn’t unnatural for her to have a connection with children. That’s why she was in that line of work, to make kids feel comfortable and safe. It felt good, though, and she couldn’t deny it anymore, hearing him connect his sister with her so closely. Throughout the vessels of her heart, she felt the slow warm fog of _belonging_. 

“I’m happy to be here too, Jughead.” 

They exchanged one more long, soft smile before she stood to take her trash. 

“Here, I’ll take it. I’m sure you have more pressing matters to get to anyway,” he chuckled. He reached out for the discarded bits she had remaining from her lunch and made his exit toward the receptacles. 

Betty watched as he walked away, his shoulders hunched like they were carrying the weight of the world, and her heart bled a little for him. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was the worst day of his life, the kind of day every parent fears. Jughead Jones could only watch in horror as his sister, Jellybean, wrestled with a sickness that he couldn’t control. While dealing with the prognosis, Jughead couldn’t ignore the ray of hope keeping him grounded through the sadness in the form of Pediatric Oncology Nurse Betty Cooper. Can he learn to love while living in a nightmare? Can she learn to put aside her insecurities and conflicting feelings to fall for the father figure of her patient?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the newest chapter of this little fic :) I hope you're enjoying it so far. I appreciate all of your comments and kudos. The gesture really does mean the world to me!
> 
> I do not own the rights to the Archie Comics or Riverdale, and the content of this story is strictly from my own imagination.

Giggles, lots and lots of giggles. That’s all she could hear from behind the closed door of room 19 across from the nurses’ station. Betty looked up and couldn’t help the little grin that came crawling across her lips. It had been a while since she had heard Jellybean sound so effortlessly happy. Her treatments had taken a lot out of her, and now that she was finished with her first cycle of chemo, her body began to settle. The nausea had begun to subside and she was becoming a lot more animated and playful. Betty began to see the JB that Jughead had so genuinely described. 

She glanced back to her computer screen, anxious to complete her last bit of charting. There was a part of her that she was afraid to give in to, the one that shouted out at her to go join the fun. She couldn’t deny the bounce in her knees though as the anxiety spread from tip to tip, her fingers dancing across the keyboard with a speed very unlike her. 

Next to her computer station, a freckled redhead with her hair wound in a sock bun tilted her head to the side to watch as Betty flew across the keys, itching with excitement. Her eyebrow cocked up and she laughed softly. Betty met her eyes, an expression of confusion etched into her brow. 

“What is it, Ethel?” 

The girl responded with a shrug of her shoulders before turning her eyes back on her own computer. 

“Just go check it out, Betty. You can finish charting later.” 

Betty still looked confused, and her silence led Ethel to turn back in her direction. “It’s obvious you want to be in there with them,” she explained, gesturing to Jellybean’s room with her pen. “Just go. I’ll look after your other two patients for a bit. See what all of that commotion is about.” 

Betty looked down at her fingers, which were still twitching long after she stopped her typing. Without giving away her joy, she nodded. “Yeah, my other two should be fine. I just gave pain medications to 18 and 16 is taking a nap. Her mother is bedside.” Then, she added, “plus, I need to give JB her afternoon meds.” 

Ethel’s eyebrow cocked again, grinning at the surprising way Betty so comfortably dropped her patient’s nickname. She said nothing, and Betty took this as her cue to leave. She practically flew out of her chair, grabbing hold of the syringe filled with medicated syrup next to her. She approached the door to room 19 and knocked softly, walking in without waiting for a response. 

Immediately, she was greeted with the sight of flames of red zooming around the room, a blur of blue and marigold following in its wake. The streak began to slow and suddenly came into stark focus. There stood a tall gentleman with red hair, wrapped in what looked like a letterman’s jacket. He wore tight jeans and his eyes were a comforting kind of brown. He had a big smile, and Betty thought he looked like the quintessential magazine cover for the perfect “All-American Man.” 

“Sorry if we were making too much of a ruckus. Just having a bit of fun here with ol’ JB.” 

Betty just shook her head and offered a warm smile. “Not at all. It’s nice to hear her sound so happy.” She turned to wink at the girl bouncing on her crouched knees in the hospital bed, before pivoting her body back to face the newcomer. “I’m Betty, by the way. I’m one of Jellybean’s nurses.” 

He extended a hand to her and she took it. His palm, though a bit sweaty, was warm and soft, albeit a bit calloused. 

“I’m Archie, this kiddo’s godfather.” He gestured to JB before pointing his thumb back at Jughead who sat on the guest couch against the wall, the sun behind him coming in strong through the hospital window. “This mook here is my best friend.” He flashed a mischievous grin at his beanie-clad buddy. “Been going strong for about twenty years now.” 

Betty chuckled, “Well you guys make a lovely couple.” Jellybean giggled beside her and they shared a wink together. 

“Hey now,” Jughead objected, leaning back into his lounging position, comfortable with the ease of their conversation. “I’ll have you know I can do a lot better than jock boy here.” 

Archie laughed and grabbed a pillow from JB’s bed and threw it at Jughead’s face. He caught it, looking playfully offended, before throwing it right back, just missing Archie’s head. Jellybean cackled, filled with another sudden burst of energy, and grabbed the other pillow off of her bed, clutching it tight before slamming it into the side of Archie’s ribs. The redhead pretended to be wounded, collapsing to the ground, before Jellybean landed another cushiony blow to his head. 

“Betty!” Jellybean shouted, still entrenched in her assault against Archie. “Grab a pillow and get the other one!” 

Betty turned to face Jughead, suddenly feeling the urge to throw responsibility out the window and join in on the fun. Anything to keep Jellybean laughing. Their eyes both landed on the pillow that had fallen beside Archie’s feet earlier and they darted for it at the same time. Betty leapt for the cushion, but Jughead got to it half a second earlier, reaching around Betty’s waist to pull her away from the weapon so he could grab it first. The brush of contact and the jovial atmosphere swimming around the room had Betty burying herself within the fun, lost to the feeling of her body pressed into Jughead’s hip with the competitive streak that inevitably came out of her. She tried to reach around his chest for the pillow, but he was too quick, extending it further away from her before bringing it back swiftly to hit against her body in a hard wave. 

“Hey!” Betty exclaimed, caught off guard by the pillow punch. It had hit the base of her ponytail just right, causing it to loosen, and she felt flustered with a rush of excitement and joy. As her eyes landed on Jughead’s, his face bursting with happiness and laughter, his smile nearing the creases of his eyes, she suddenly felt flustered with a new feeling – lust. They stood there, breathing heavy, smiles starting to wane slowly, and Betty realized he was feeling the same thing she was feeling too. 

Jughead quickly cleared his throat and Betty readjusted her ponytail. 

_Back to reality._

She crept back to the entrance of the room, stopping at the computer to badge herself in and scan the medication she had meant to give JB. 

“Jellybean,” Betty prompted, causing the girl and her redheaded victim to halt their play. Jellybean lowered the pillow and brought it back to the surface of the bed, hearing the switch from play to business in Betty’s voice. “It’s time for your medication.” 

“Is this that icky orange stuff I had this morning?” she asked, wrinkling her face up in disgust. 

Betty shook her head. “No, this is that medication I told you about yesterday that helps to protect you from getting sores in your mouth.” She tilted her head down, looking directly at Jellybean, the return of the sparkle that had been there during her pillow fight with Jughead. “I mixed this one with grape.” 

The little girl pumped her elbow back to her body, exclaiming “yes” out loud, happy that Betty had remembered her favorite flavor. 

Archie had settled back on the couch with Jughead and they began to converse about something private. Betty’s ears perked up, but she tried to give most of her attention to Jellybean instead, remembering that she was the patient, not her big brother or his friend. 

After Jellybean sucked down the syrup from the disposable syringe, Betty reached over to clean off some of the trash on JB’s rolling table, tossing old candy wrappers into the garbage pail. 

“So Archie, are you a writer like Jughead?” She had remembered the shift previously how Jughead had detailed the freedom of his work schedule with Betty as they shared another half hour of lunch in the cafeteria. Archie shook his head and laughed. 

“Hell no,” he replied. JB snickered at the expletive. “I’m a high school football coach in one of the nearby boroughs.” 

Betty smiled, not entirely surprised. He had that kind of patient attitude you would expect from someone who taught youthful minds. Simple kindness radiated off of him, and Betty felt a unique sense of familiarity just by being near him. Even she could recognize, though, that this feeling was platonic, uncomplicated and easy, as if they had been friends in a past life. This was a drastic difference from the way she felt around Jughead – complicated, unnerving, and electric. 

“That makes sense. You’re really great with kids,” Betty mentioned and she could see Archie blush just slightly. Jughead stiffened, barely noticeable, in his spot on the couch, but soon relaxed back into the cushions. There was no reason for him to be jealous, he rationalized. Betty was just JB’s nurse. 

_That’s all._

But he couldn’t help himself. “It’s probably because Archie’s basically a giant big kid himself.” 

Archie laughed, taking Jughead’s insult less at face value, shrugging his shoulders in mild agreeance. “I can’t help it if kids think I’m cool. Not all of us can be broody, moody writers like some people in this room.” He shot Jughead a knowing glance and Jellybean laughed. Archie winked at JB and Betty could feel the closeness between the girl and her brother’s best friend. 

“Well, it’s great that JB has so many _cool_ friends to support her. I wish I had a big brother, or two, to boss around when I was younger.” She smiled at the girl and she smiled back, nodding at Betty’s assumption. 

Jughead added to her proclamation. “JB is bossy, you’ve got that right.” Jellybean turned to face her brother and stuck her tongue out at him. He stuck his right back out at her and the siblings exchanged a little laugh that only close siblings could share. Betty smiled, her face becoming warm. She didn’t realize Archie was watching her entire face go up in nervous, flushing flames. 

“So Betty, what do you like to do in your free time?” 

Betty was taken aback briefly by the personal nature of Archie’s question, but was more affected by the way Jughead cursed under his breath and elbowed Archie in the side. “Come on, man, that’s not an appropriate question to ask her.” 

Betty cut his objections off. “It’s okay.” She turned to face Archie, thinking for a moment. “Well, probably what most girls my age do? I like to bake, watch trash TV with a glass of wine, spend time with my friends.” She shrugged casually. 

Archie sent a quick glance at Jughead before continuing. “Well you can’t be far off in age from our boy Jughead here. You know what his hobbies include? Packing school lunches, dancing around to the Disney channel, and chasing kids around the park.” 

Jughead’s face crumpled up, scoffing lightly. “When have you ever seen me dance?” Jellybean chuckled. He looked at her briefly before staring at the ground, hoping she wouldn’t hear the guilt in his voice. “Besides, someone has to do them,” he looked at JB again and smiled. “I’m just lucky that I like doing them, is all.” 

“Whatever man, all I’m saying is that you need to do more fun stuff, get out there and live a life separate from the life within the four walls of your apartment. Like Betty here. She’s working at a hospital around a bunch of sick people, but she still finds time to go out and let loose, right?” He looked to her for confirmation and she nodded. 

“It’s just one night, man. Come hear me play, have a couple beers, and then you can come back here.” He looked at JB and winked. “Our girl will be fine for _one_ night. I bet she’ll even find a way to boss everyone around, running the joint by the time you get back.” 

Jughead turned to Betty to explain. “When not throwing balls at children, Archie spends his time trying to pass as a good musician.” Archie reacted by kicking Jughead’s foot lightly with his own. 

“Yeah, I’ve got a gig tonight at The Cactus Bar and I’ve been trying to convince Howard Hughes here to come outside for one night and have some fun.” He looked at Jellybean, who had slipped under the covers of her bed, undertaken by a swift spell of sleepiness. “Lord know he could use a little bit of fun right now.” 

Betty nodded, agreeing with Archie’s summation. “You’re right. He’s right, Jughead. It might be good for you to get out for a night, recharge for a bit. Jellybean’s a tough cookie. Plus, she’s in her rest period right now. It’s important for her to get as much sleep as she can to give her body a chance to recover.” 

Jughead look down, considering their advice. He slowly came around, nodding “yes,” and Archie couldn’t ignore Betty’s ability to get his stubborn friend to listen to reason. 

In a stroke of genius, Archie lifted his head up and made eye contact with Betty. “What are your plans tonight? You want to join? The show’s at nine.” 

Jughead delivered another elbow to Archie’s ribs, glaring at him, trying to send him telepathic messages with his eyes. He was worried his friend was going to cross a line with Betty, causing her to feel awkward around him. 

“Come on, Arch. She doesn’t want to come.” 

Betty, about to turn down the offer, suddenly turned to Jughead, irritation bubbling underneath her. “Oh, I don’t?” Though it was true, Betty knew it was safest to say no, she couldn’t deny she wanted to spend more time seeing the version of Jughead away from the gloomy setting of the hospital. Also, his reaction to Archie’s request had her spine stiffening in defiance. 

Jughead immediately got quiet, his voice a soft mumble. “I just didn’t want you to feel bad saying no. I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, especially with you being JB’s nurse.” He shrugged, reaching back to scratch the back of his neck. 

Betty took a second, preparing to jump across the line from professional into personal, not realizing what this simple decision would set in motion. 

She turned to Archie and replied, “I’d love to go. Would it be okay if I brought a friend?” 

Archie’s face broke into a big smile. “No, that would be awesome! The more people in the crowd, the better I look.” He nudged Jughead softly with his foot. “Grumpy here will buy your first round. He owes you for taking such good care of his sister.” 

Betty looked at Jughead and they caught each other in a smile. 

“Wonderful,” she said, breaking herself free before she got lost in the moment. “Well, I’ve got to check in on my other patients. Jughead, I’ll be back in after a while to check on her. I’d say just let her nap for as long as she can.” She turned to Archie. “Archie, if I don’t see you before you head out, I guess I’ll see you tonight.” She backed herself up to the exit. “It was nice to meet you.” 

Archie replied, “Ditto,” and she stepped out, missing the exchange between the two friends on the couch, Archie making some sort of flirty gesture between Jughead and his sister’s pretty nurse. 

Betty smiled to herself as she departed, shutting the door softly behind her. As the promise of an evening filled with nerves and excitement loomed ahead of her, she reached into the front pocket of her scrubs and retrieved her phone. Looking down through her contacts, she quickly came upon Veronica’s name and began typing away. 

**Betty:** V, find your cutest outfit. You’ve got a date tonight. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------

**Song: “Can’t Feel My Face” by The Weeknd**

Jughead found himself lost in the mesmerizing neon of the signs behind the bar, his mind running a million miles a minute. Somewhere overhead, the speakers of the bar were blaring a pop tune about some guy’s numb face when he was around the muse for the song, and Jughead could emphasize. His whole body went from tingling heat to absolute ice as the nerves spread through his system like livewires in water. 

How did he ever let Archie convince him to come out tonight? Back at the hospital, he had the excuse of looking grungy because he was too preoccupied with concerns for his little sister. Here, in the very public scene of a bar, with a very attractive particular nurse meant for his company, Jughead couldn’t hide behind a pair of sweat pants and faded t-shirt. He pulled at the collar of his navy button-up dress shirt, suddenly so suffocating, and took a deep inhale. He watched as Archie worked to set his equipment up in the corner beside the bar, plugging his guitar into the provided amp and positioning his pedals around the wires on the makeshift stage. 

Just as Jughead was bringing the bottle to his lips to take another swig, his hand froze. 

Betty slipped past the door of the bar as it was closing behind someone exiting. She wore a long tan coat with buttons littering the front, hugged tightly against her body. Her hair was down in soft waves, inching down her back like tender strips of golden silk. As she made way for a girl following behind her, Betty began to work at the clasps of her coat, revealing underneath a snug pencil skirt of dark gold. Her top, a playful pale pink sweater with a V-shaped dip at the neck to show off her cleavage, clung to her chest in a way that caused Jughead’s mouth to become dry. Suddenly, he needed that swig of beer more than ever. 

He watched as she turned her head back to say something to the raven haired girl beside her, and he realized this must be the friend she had asked to bring along. Some of the nerves inside him settled, realizing this was a good sign in the column of the “Is Betty Single or Not?” list he and Archie had been discussing over their first beer an hour ago. He had realized, despite the conflict of interest, if Betty was willing to take their relationship in a different direction, he would be willing to test out the waters with her. 

Betty looked way too damn good for him to deny. 

However, he just had to make sure not to get so tied down he lost sight of his first priority, caring for Jellybean. 

The two ladies made their way toward the bar after Betty made eye contact with Jughead, throwing an immediate hand up into the air in greeting. He finished swallowing the last bits of his beer and set the bottle on the bar just as she slid into the space beside him, offering a cheerful smile. 

It had been so long since Betty had looked forward to a night out. Sure, she enjoyed her random nights of bar hopping with her friends, but it had been years since she went anywhere where there had been the guarantee of interacting with an attractive gentleman. After her shift had ended, she practically flew into her apartment after an excruciatingly slow cab ride home, ripping open the closet to find her cutest outfit for the evening. Just after she had finished scrubbing every inch of her skin in the shower, hoping to spread the sweet vanilla smell of her soap over her entire body, Veronica had showed up. The two girls spent the remainder of their time before 8:30 pm applying make-up and finding the right shoes to go with the itinerary of the night. Betty knew there was a chance she’d be standing for most of the evening, especially in a packed bar, and picked out her cutest pair of pink flats. 

Veronica hadn’t put the same amount of energy and effort into her look, but Betty knew she didn’t need to. The beautiful classically Hollywood ingénue had donned her signature little black dress, her curves on full display through the tightness of the fabric, with pearls around the slender column of her neck. To Veronica, black pumps felt more natural to her than a pair of flats, showing her legs off to every guy in the joint. 

“Hey there, bright eyes.” Jughead greeted, and Betty noticed a different kind of energy radiating from his presence, something more playful, something _flirtier._ It made the butterflies in her stomach erupt in a flutter as if kicked up by the mischievous foot of a small child. 

“Hey there,” she replied back, wishing she had said something far more clever. The air between them became tense, crackling with a sexual energy that had suddenly revealed itself, previously buried beneath the formality of their conversations about JB. A throat suddenly cleared beside them, and Betty could feel the tether between the two of them snap apart. 

She turned her attention to her friend beside her. “Jughead, this is my friend Veronica. V, this is Jughead, the brother of one of my patients.” 

Before Jughead had the chance to extend a hand, Veronica beat him to the punch, shoving an overconfident and perfectly manicured hand out for him to shake. He took it and participated in the expected pleasantries before letting go. 

“So, Jughead… I believe you owe me a drink?” Betty peered up at him through hooded eyes, her eyelashes fluttering like soft wings. He cleared his throat and chuckled. 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. What’s your poison?” 

Betty considered for a moment before landing on gin & soda. Jughead cocked an eyebrow. 

“Gin, huh? I’m surprised, Betty.” She blushed lightly, a curious smile playing across her lips. 

“I like what I like, what can I say?” 

Jughead turned to Veronica, a wordless question about her choice of drink. 

“Vodka soda, please. Thanks.” Jughead turned to face the bar, rattling off his drink order to the bartender, including a new beer each for himself and Archie. 

As they waited for their drinks, Betty peeled off her coat, folding it lightly across the crook of her left arm. 

“Here, let me take that. They always let us stash our shit by Archie’s equipment when he plays.” Jughead held out a hand for her coat, offering the same gesture to Veronica, and he carried them over to the back of the stage, along with Archie’s fresh beer. Archie set his newly tuned guitar down in the stand and reached for the beer extended in Jughead’s hand. Both men turned to watch Betty and Veronica erupt into giggly girly conversation from across the room. 

“So which one do you think is for me?” 

Jughead looked up at his friend before returning his gaze to the two girls, his eyebrows pulled in together. “What do you mean?” 

Archie chuckled, sitting back on the bar stool situated in the middle of the stage. “Well, there’s two of them. She didn’t bring a guy, so I’d say she’s single. There’s no ring on her friend’s finger, so I’d be quick to say she’s probably single too.” 

Jughead scoffed, half laughing in admiration of his friend’s observation. “You’re awfully astute tonight.” 

Archie shrugged his shoulders. “I’m always paying attention when cute girls are around.” He watched as the tension in his friend’s shoulders began to build. He slapped a hand down on one of them, giving him a brief squeeze. 

“Come on, man. I saw the way she was looking at you. Clearly, Betty came to see you.” 

Jughead glanced back at him, and Archie could see the tension start to ease. 

Archie shrugged. “That’s cool. Plus, her friend’s pretty fucking hot.” Archie took another pull of his beer and suddenly sat up straight on the stool, reaching down to smooth out the fabric of his simple long-sleeved cotton t-shirt. He looked a bit nervous himself. “You think I look okay, man?” 

Jughead laughed and turned to look back at the bar, his eyes locking with Betty’s. 

“Yeah, you’re fine, dude.” 

\----------------------------------------------------------------

“You _cannot_ tell me that you think the Mets even hold a candle to my beloved Yankees?” Veronica looked at Archie, hands on her hips in flirty exasperation. 

Archie looked at her incredulously, surprised that this pretty polished Park Avenue princess had an opinion on, much less a vast knowledge of, professional sports. The two of them continued their playful bickering, their body language turning inward toward each other the longer the night dragged on. 

After Archie had finished his first set, the foursome gathered around a pub table Archie had reserved for them. The redhead was finally introduced to Veronica, and the two hit it off so quickly it had even surprised Betty, who had purposefully brought Veronica because she thought Archie would make a good match for her. 

Veronica was also a pleasant buffer, the wingwoman Betty needed for a night spent throwing back drinks with Jughead. Unfortunately, the matchmaking went too well, leaving Betty and Jughead outcasted to the other side of the pub table while their two friends lost themselves in playful conversation. 

Jughead chuckled before taking another swig of his beer. “Well, how the Hell do you like that?” 

Betty turned to face him, a smile spreading while she bit down on her lower lip, the sexual chemistry across the table inspiring her to consider the energy between her and Jughead. “What do you mean?” 

He stared down at her lip, licking his own in subconscious reply. “I just mean, did you expect to watch the birth of some weird mutated love baby when you walked into this bar tonight?” He gestured across the table. Betty laughed. 

“Actually, kind of, yeah. Veronica’s had a really hard time with men lately. After meeting Archie, I had a feeling he’d be the kind of flavor she wasn’t expecting but couldn’t resist.” 

Jughead wiggled his eyebrows at her playfully. “You think Archie’s irresistible?” She shoved at his arm lightly, laughing at the dramatic fluttering of his eyelashes. 

“You know what I mean.” Her tone turned a bit more serious, though still light around the edges. “I just want to see her happy.” 

Jughead lost himself for a moment watching her profile change from helpful best friend to maternal caregiver. “Is that why you became a nurse, so you could make people happy?” 

Betty turned to face him, the seriousness replaced with soft confusion. “No,” she explained. “Well, okay, yes – in a way, I make it a part of my job to make the kids feel as happy as they can be while sick inside a stuffy hospital.” She brought her glass to her lips and tipped back a swallow. “I became a nurse because there’s this natural inclination in me to take care of people.” She laughed, “You could call it a control thing, or a motherly thing. I just found nursing to be one of the only professions where empathy is truly encouraged. In fact, it’s pretty much one of the requirements of the job. If you don’t know how to connect with people, you’re basically just there for a paycheck.” She took another drink. “Healthcare is not the place for that kind of attitude.” 

He nodded, bringing his eyes back down to his hands, folded over the base of his beer bottle. Before he could respond back, she took another drink and continued. 

“You know, I originally wanted to be a journalist.” 

Jughead’s eyes snapped up, bringing them up to watch as she took another hearty drink of her gin & soda, taking a piece of the ice into her mouth to suck on. 

“I didn’t know that.” 

Her eyebrows shot up and she nodded. 

“That’s such an aggressive field though. I couldn’t imagine you being that pushy.” She turned to face him, an expression of annoyance spread across her eyes. 

“You know, I can pull out my aggression if I have to.” She finished her drink, setting the glass down on the surface of the bar table. Her expression lightened just a little. “You just don’t know me well enough yet, Jones. I’m all about the beast within.” 

He laughed, though not quick to forget her use of the word “yet.” 

“I’ll believe it when I see it….” He suddenly realized he didn’t know her last name. 

As if reading his exact thoughts, she supplied, “Cooper. Betty Cooper.” 

In an entirely clichéd and corny gesture, Jughead held out a hand for her to shake. 

“Nice to meet you, Betty Cooper. I’m Jughead Jones.” 

She blushed, licking the bottom surface of her outer lip. She felt the magnetic pull of their chemistry pulling her in closer to him. Just as she took a clumsy step forward, Archie announced from across the table that he was going up to the stage for his second set. 

Halfway through his line-up, Betty began to feel the warmth of the alcohol spread like butter through her body, and she swayed to the soft strum of Archie’s acoustic guitar. Next to her, Veronica looked lost in the lyrics, her drunken hips sweeping from left to right, her eyes glued to the redheaded crooner serenading her from the stage. 

Betty could feel the familiar presence of Jughead behind her, his body brushing lightly against hers with every sway. When they moved against each other just right, she could feel the tips of his fingers graze over her own, and she wished she had the boldness within her to lean back and press herself against him. The lyrics of the song drifted along in the air, heavy with the tale of a sultry seductress bringing a desperate man to his death with her poison kiss. It was the most sensual of his entire set, and it ignited a fire inside Betty as she fantasized about bringing the normally broody man behind her to his knees in pleasant pleas for pleasure. She could feel him step up closer to her, finding his foot had slid just behind her in between her legs, and she took this as a sign to go for it. Before she could stop herself, emboldened by the strength of the liquor, she leaned her head back and found the warm safety net of Jughead’s chest. Afraid to look at him, worried the fire in her cheeks would give everything away, she stayed in that position as the song transitioned into the next. The longer he went without pulling away, the more confirmation she got that he was feeling the same heat that she was feeling. 

The next song was much more sorrowful, and Betty quietly cursed Archie for choosing such a somber note to bookend the siren song from before. As the words flowed throughout the crowd, the wailing of loss and tragedy, Betty felt the body behind her stiffen and suddenly there was nothing. She turned to find Jughead slipping through the crowd, pushing the side door of the bar and letting the cold air in as he exited. 

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**Song: “The Edge of the Ocean” by Ivy**

Betty thought about staying glued to where she was, trapped in the warmth of the crowded bar, lost within the excuse that she was only here to have a good time. She wasn’t responsible for checking on Jughead. 

That wouldn’t be Betty, though, if she ignored the silent suffering of someone she cared about. And, as she had realized in that moment, that had come to Jughead. 

She shouted over the sounds of Archie’s singing into Veronica’s ears, letting her know she was going to slip out for a few minutes, and followed Jughead’s path through the crowd and out the side door. Immediately, when standing in the cold swirl of the evening air, she regretted not grabbing her jacket from behind the stage. Her arms folded up to cover her midsection as her eyes scanned the crowd of smokers and socializers to find Jughead. 

There, perched on the curb twenty feet down the way, he sat, folded over his knees, his breath coming out in tense puffs of frosted air. 

Betty slowly approached him, trying to get a feel for where his head was at. She unfolded her arms and braced her hands on the concrete beneath as she lowered herself to sit beside him. 

He didn’t look at her, but Jughead knew it was Betty, knew there’d be a look of concern etched all over her face. He continued to breathe in and out, the rate slowing, the essence of Betty’s company covering him with a swirling white film of calm. 

Betty licked her lips, quickly chapped against the cold night air. “Jughead, what’s going on?” Her voice was soft and gentle, though powerful enough to snap him out of his sudden onset of sadness to face her. 

“I just,” he looked back down at his hands, folded in between his hunched up knees. “I just feel guilty being here, having fun with Archie, having fun with you while she sits in that hospital bed.” He sighed, exhaling into a thick puff of fog. “JB wants to get out of that hospital so badly. I know it’s killing her. She’s not used to being pent up for long periods of time.” He threw a hand back, nearly knocking off his beanie to rush through his thick mop of hair. “She’s just a damn kid. This isn’t fair…. This isn’t fair to her.” 

Betty took a moment to gather her thoughts. “You and I both know Jellybean is mature enough to want you to do the things she can’t right now. She wouldn’t want you to hold back just for the sake of her sickness. She may be nine, but she’s much older than that, really.” 

He nodded, pulling the beanie down off of his head. It was a move purely out of comfort for Jughead, feeling himself ease into this familiar feeling of closeness that grew with each moment he shared with Betty. It felt good, closing his eyes in surrender to the cool breeze that flitted through his midnight waves. It felt good to be this close to her. 

Betty inhaled a small breath, amazed to see him finally without the piece of fabric she always associated with the dark-haired man in front of her. He was gorgeous. _He’s always been gorgeous,_ Betty thought, but this new level of _vulnerability_ made her realize just how close she could get to tipping over that edge of familiarity into intimacy. As their eyes met and she stared into the waves of blue crashing into her, she realized just how close she could get to tipping over the edge of that ocean, falling into him. 

He cleared his throat, though his gaze never wavered. “You know, despite what I said earlier, I don’t doubt you’d be a great journalist.” Betty was frozen in place, though a warmth begin to break the ice from within. “But you’re meant to be a nurse. I see it every time you rub her back when she’s sick. I see it when you talk to her about her cancer. You treat her like an adult. Sometimes I think you see her better than I do.” 

He reached over and grabbed a hold of her hand, both cold to the touch, but the heat was rolling off of them in waves. “This is where you’re meant to be. Don’t ever doubt that.” 

She completed the contact, turning her hand up to lace her fingers with his, and suddenly they were bonded. As the music played from the outdoor speakers, and the smell of faded cigarette smoke drifted down around the faded brick of the building behind them, she found the strength to push forward. 

She leaned into the space between them and found his lips, warm and soft. They pressed into each other, hands still locked, and found the peace they had both been craving. 

How could he have known what his words would do to her, how they would ease the insecurities she tried so hard for years to push away? 

How could she have known such a simple gesture of letting him in, lowering her walls down enough for him to climb over, would remind him what it was to have hope? 

They broke apart just before Veronica and Archie walked up beside them, holding out coats with knowing smiles. Betty and Jughead stood, taking their offered belongings, while the group took inventory on the rest of the evening. Betty could tell Veronica was trying to rationalize taking her own cab home, with Archie quickly piping up that it would be cheaper to share the same car. 

“V, just be safe,” Betty replied with a knowing glance. Jughead was shuffling his feet as the other three waited for him to state his plans. He tucked his hands into his coat pockets, his beanie now back over his head, and he turned to face Betty. 

“Want to go for a walk?” 

She nodded in reply. Through the lingering warmth of their kiss before, Betty ignored the cold around them. She was more interested in spending time with Jughead than she was the biting frost of the winter season. 

The two of them turned to Archie and Veronica, both of whom were grinning widely, before the four departed ways -- Archie and Veronica folding themselves into a single cab with giggles and a running heater, Betty and Jughead taking off down the street into the chilly faded distance of the street lamp-lit city streets. 

As they opted for a slow pace and the long route to Betty’s apartment, they talked about many different topics: their favorite choice of literary genres, the best pizza shops in New York, where they grew up. Though both avoided the messy baggage of their tumultuous childhoods, they danced around their histories, exchanging embarrassing stories from middle school, and shared their hopes for an ideal future, where they saw themselves in five years. 

“Jellybean would make a terrible aunt,” Jughead exclaimed. Betty laughed, their discussion turning from innocent career desires to the personal topic about whether or not they each wanted a family in the future. 

“I don’t know. I could see her being that sassy aunt that rolls around in the mud and chases her nieces and nephews around the lawn.” Jughead chuckled at her summation, nodding his head. 

“Okay, maybe you’ve got me there. She would definitely be the fun aunt, that’s for sure. I don’t know how my kids would ever want to come back home to me after spending a day with her.” 

Betty loved the way his face lit up whenever he talked about Jellybean, and she had to wonder if he was always this enraptured with the little girl, or if it was heightened merely by the presence of her illness. She suspected the former. Jughead seemed like the type of man who made a single impression of someone that stuck forever, his feelings toward them unwavering. 

“I don’t know about my sister. She’s really sick so I don’t think she’d be much fun.” Betty winked at Jughead, trying to lighten the mood, but he would tell there was sadness underneath the context of what she said. 

“I didn’t know you had a sister. How long has she been sick?” 

They kept walking, but their paced had slowed down some, and Betty kept her eyes glued to the sidewalk. She pulled her hand out of her coat pocket to brush at a stray piece of hair that had fallen into her eyes. 

“Ever since she was a little kid. Polly has cystic fibrosis, and she’s been in and out of hospitals for most of her life. I remember always enjoying being in the hospital, crawling around waiting room chairs or exploring little sections of the different wings, hoping to not get in trouble. It’s odd – I always felt like I belonged there, in the hospital.” She smiled. “I know it’s kind of weird. I guess maybe that’s another reason why I wanted to become a nurse. It’s the one place I felt like I was a part of something bigger than myself.” 

Jughead pulled a hand out of his coat and reached down to find hers, and their fingers wove together in symmetry. 

“As someone who has spent an abnormally large amount of time in the hospital lately, I can say yes, that’s weird,” and he smiled when she laughed back. “But I think you’re right. You definitely belong there.” 

Their arms swung lightly and she looked up at him and smiled, the green of her eyes illuminated by the glow of the street lamps above. 

They slowed as they arrived at the bottom of her apartment building, a small flight of stone steps looming before them. 

More than anything, Betty wanted to ask him to come up, but she feared she had already crossed enough of a line tonight. To take it any further might land her in dangerous territory, with both her job and her heart. 

Jughead stood across from her, his hand still linked with hers, and he brought it up to place a soft kiss just on the surface. She stepped into the distance between their arms and brought her other hand to cup his cold face, pressing her lips to his for warmth, for magic. 

His other hand found its way to the small of her back as he held her tight against him, and her hands snaked around to clutch at the back of his neck, deepening their embrace. She was lost in the fire, gripping onto him as the hot heat of their tongues began to explore. The hair on the back of his neck was so feather soft, like downy, that Betty found herself trapped in its hazy web, lightly caressing the strands to send a shiver directly down Jughead’s spine and to the junction of his jeans where it had become increasingly suffocating. 

The space between their chests was nonexistent, but still they pulled, clutching to each other as if they had been without heat for days, months, years. Betty let out a soft moan into Jughead’s mouth and his control had snapped, hanging on by one silvery thin thread. 

“Betty…” he whispered, his voice husky and full. She slowly opened her eyes to see him, face flushed with fire, breath coming out in giant puffs of heat in the icy air around them. She suddenly dropped her forehead to his chest, afraid that if she kept looking into his eyes, she’d find herself dragging him upstairs to her bedroom like a hunter bringing home its prey. 

“Jug… I’m sorry,” she whispered back. 

She could feel the chuckle bubbling from his chest. “Please don’t be sorry.” He nestled his face into her hair, getting close enough to her ear for his words to slip out like silk. “This is the best night I’ve had in a long time.” 

She felt the heat rise up and burst over the skin of her chest and neck, and instantly she found the strength to push herself back. She laughed, taking a step toward her apartment building. 

“Trust me, I’m still sorry,” she hesitated, watching his face sort through a few different confusing emotions. “I’m sorry I have to cut this night short.” She ran her hands through her hair and let out a heavy exhale. 

“This is one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time too. I just wish I could bring you upstairs to make it even better.” 

Jughead swallowed a lump in his throat that he didn’t know was there. He nodded, understanding. This was already so much for the two of them. She was his sister’s nurse, and he was the brother, practically father, of one of her patients. It would be unethical for them to just jump into bed with each other. 

Plus, they had only known each other for a few weeks. They needed more time. In all things, this relationship between them, the situation with Jellybean. They just needed more time. 

She took his silence and soft nod as understanding and turned to open the front door. 

“Betty.” 

She pivoted around to face him, her hand still frozen on the door handle. 

“This is enough.” He began to back up down the block slowly. “This is enough for now.” 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was the worst day of his life, the kind of day every parent fears. Jughead Jones could only watch in horror as his sister, Jellybean, wrestled with a sickness that he couldn’t control. While dealing with the prognosis, Jughead couldn’t ignore the ray of hope keeping him grounded through the sadness in the form of Pediatric Oncology Nurse Betty Cooper. Can he learn to love while living in a nightmare? Can she learn to put aside her insecurities and conflicting feelings to fall for the father figure of her patient?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: So you wanted smut? You got it! This chapter’s got plenty of it, so fair warning. I also made this chapter a bit longer. I feel like you all earned a bit of sweet and spice.
> 
> The angst is going to start to pick up here soon. If you came here for that, brace yourself. The ride is about to get bumpy. First, though, I felt you all deserved a fluff chapter to smooth out the edges of what’s to come.
> 
> Again, I want you all to know how much I appreciate the kind comments and feedback, kudos and bookmarks and all the views. You make this lonely writer feel like a million bucks!
> 
> I do not own the rights to the Archie Comics or Riverdale, and the content of this story is strictly from my own imagination.

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“How could it have gotten worse? I don’t understand. I thought the chemo was going to cure her?” 

Jughead paced around the short perimeter of Jellybean’s hospital room, an arm folded tightly against his chest and the other pressed firmly against his temple, a headache brewing just beneath the surface of his brow. 

Dr. Klempner and Betty stood by the door, watching as Jughead fought to hold his anger inside. Jellybean was curled up in her bed, looking a bit worse for wear, her skin pale and cool. A cough wretched itself free from her chest, and she shook from the pain. Her head, now free of the long black hair she had loved so much, made her look years younger, and Jughead had never seen her look so fragile. 

“This isn’t the cancer, Mr. Jones. Yes, the chemo is given to treat the disease, but it has an unfortunate ability to wipe out other cells in the body. This leaves Jellybean’s body vulnerable to possible infection. With this recent cough and her overwhelming sense of fatigue, I’m worried she might be developing pneumonia. She’s had these symptoms now for a few days. I’d like to start her on a round of antibiotics, just to treat any possible infection she might have going on.” 

Jughead sighed, resigning his power to the physician speaking. “Is there anything else I can do? Should I limit visitors? Should I even be here? I don’t want to make things worse for her.” 

Dr. Klempner shook her head. “Of course not, you are perfectly fine to stay up here with her. I think it would be a good idea to limit the number of guests you have, though. Maybe just keep it to one or two. And if Jellybean needs to leave her room for any reason, she needs to wear a mask over her mouth.” 

Jughead nodded, knowing he could comply with these instructions. “Whatever I need to do, doc, I’ll do it. Just let me know.” 

“I will, Mr. Jones. I’ll be back around tomorrow morning to round on Jellybean, check on her status then. For now, I think the more important thing is making sure she gets enough rest tonight. It’ll be important for her body to recover and build up the cells in her immune system to fight any infection. She has another round of chemo due in a couple of weeks and I want her body to be in good enough shape to handle it.” The doctor made her way to exit, muttering to Betty that she’d put the order in for the pharmacy to send up the antibiotic. 

When the door shut behind her, Betty stepped up to Jughead as he began to pace again. She could see the wheels turning in his head. 

“Jughead, this is common for leukemia patients. You could not have prevented this.” She reached up to put a hand on his shoulder. 

He felt tense beneath her, stopping to stare down at the sleeping girl in the hospital bed. “I know what you say is probably correct, but that doesn’t take away the pain I feel watching her wither away in front of me.” He touched his heart. “It doesn’t take away the guilt I feel, seeing her suffer, knowing there’s not a damn thing different I could do to help her.” 

Betty exhaled slowly. “I know. I know this is tough, Jug. But Jellybean’s body is doing all it can to fight. She’s got a lot left in her.” She turned her attention away from the little girl and faced him, her grip on his shoulder tightening. “Remember when I told you that you needed to take care of yourself in order to take care of her? These are one of those times.” 

That got his attention. He relaxed under her hand and pivoted his body to face her. 

“When’s the last time you ate, Jug? When’s the last time you showered?” She wrinkled her nose playfully, though she could tell he still wasn’t in the mindset to take the bait. There was too much worry sprinkled in between his brow. 

“Come on. My shift ends in half an hour. Let’s go get something to eat.” Before Jughead could object, and she could sense that he was getting ready to, she continued, “You heard Dr. Klempner. Jellybean needs to sleep. You won’t do any good hovering over her body for the whole night. Give yourself a break. Give JB a break.” 

He nodded and they made a plan. She went to give report to the oncoming night nurse while he showered in the tiny tub in the hospital room. When they met back up by the elevators, he was wearing a fresh pair of jeans and navy blue sweatshirt, covered by his thick padded denim jacket. He smelled like soap, a mix of sandalwood and cloves, and Betty had to refrain from taking his hand until after they stepped off the elevator and out of the hospital. 

They had decided to stop at a 24-hour diner nearby, a little blast from the past where they indulged in hot dogs and apple pie. They talked more about Jellybean as a child, one of the only topics Betty knew would bring an easy smile to his face. When the topic came up of how he became her guardian, she could tell he was dancing around the truth. She wouldn’t pry, but she had a feeling the answers were painful to him. 

In an attempt to get him to open up, she shared her own stories of her childhood, unveiling her baggage just enough for him to see she was trying. She told him about her overbearing mother, her quiet and mildly affectionate father who taught her how to fix cars, and the disappointment she felt at how they both dropped on ball on caring for her older sister. 

When they were done, lingering over empty plates and half-filled coffee mugs for over an hour, Jughead offered to walk her home again. They strolled, hand in hand, easing into a comfortable pace, staying silent for most of the journey. There was a build-up of tension between them, nearly too much time elapsing since he had last kissed her. Betty worried they would arrive at her apartment and he would depart without holding her tight against him once more. 

When they finally ambled up to her building, Betty’s heart felt like it was going to jump out of her chest. They faced each other and Jughead was quick to ease her fears, pulling her in close to him for a searing kiss that made her bones melt inside her skin. She rushed to bring him even closer, wrapping her arms around his neck in a fierce embrace, and Jughead felt himself begin to lose balance. 

He backed her up to the brick wall of the building, angling his body against hers, and moved his tongue deeper into her mouth. Betty’s fingers toyed with the curls at the bottom of his neck while Jughead’s found warmth nestled inside the flaps of Betty’s coat, gripping the swells of her breasts. Their bodies moved with urgency, pressing and pulling and grasping out to touch. Their bodies were producing a mist of heat in the cold winter air, and just when the warmth threatened to consume them both, Jughead pushed away, leaving an inch or two between their heaving chests. 

“Betty, I… I can’t do this right now.” 

Betty brought her fingertips to her swollen lips, feeling the thickness beat softly with the rhythm of her speeding heart. She nodded, knowing now it was her turn to give him time, give him the space he needed, to figure out what he wanted. 

“I understand,” she whispered, voice hoarse and thick with lust. Jughead bit down hard on his bottom lip and pushed off against the brick, taking a few steps back. 

“You should get inside, Betty.” He chuckled softly, trying to lighten the awkwardness of the moment. “You need to be well, too, for Jellybean. She needs your medical skills probably more than she needs my nagging.” 

Betty chuckled and walked up the steps slowly to the front door, bracing against the stone railing, not quite knowing if she would have the strength in her knees to climb the two flights of stairs to her apartment. She would worry about that once she got inside the doorway, putting a bit of distance between her and him. 

“Have a good night, Jughead.” She smiled before slipping inside. 

“Good night, Betty,” he whispered, left standing alone, a beacon of heat slowly becoming snuffed out by the cold air around him. 

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 **Song: “Fade Into You” by Clare Bowen & Sam Palladio**

Jughead stood at the threshold between the hall and Betty’s front door, not knowing what kind of strength had carried him up the two flights of stairs to this very spot. He thought about not knocking, turning around and abandoning this mission, but he knew he’d be a fool to waste the boldness. With a shaky hand, he brought it up to tap softly against the wood of her door. 

It took a few seconds, which felt like an eternity to Jughead, but finally he could hear the locks slip free before Betty pulled back the door. She had changed out of her scrubs in the time he had taken to convince himself to come here and find her. She wore a loose fitting t-shirt with a hole near the hem and a pair of boxer shorts covered in tiny blue bicycles. Her hair was down, the crease from her ponytail still present, and he thought she had never looked more beautiful. 

“Jughead?” she inquired, waiting for him to say something. 

He gulped down the last bit of spit he had left and inhaled. “Betty, I’m sorry to bother you. I meant to ask you downstairs if you had any recommendations to help with JB’s nausea. You know, for the next round of chemo.” He reached back to painfully grip the hairs at the base of his scalp, punishing himself for being such a coward. 

Her brows knit together, her expression that of someone slightly confused, but she replied, “I mean, you could bring her some ginger candies. That might keep her from feeling so crummy.” 

He nodded and they stood there in silence for a moment before she cleared her throat. 

“Was there something else, Jughead?” She waited for him to respond, waited for him to pick his eyes up off the ground and look at her. 

He nodded swiftly, gaining up enough courage to look her dead in the eye. “Yeah, also…” and then he froze again, not quite knowing the right words to say. 

She chuckled uncomfortably, withering under his unnerving gaze, unsure of whether or not to invite him in. “What?” she asked. 

Suddenly, Jughead stepped forward, erasing the distance between the two of them, as his hands came to cup her face and his lips found hers with a smoldering kiss. She fell into the embrace, folding into him as her arms came up to wrap around his neck. The energy between them snapped and suddenly she felt the electricity spark between their bodies and start a fire that Betty knew she would not be able to extinguish. 

She led him to the bedroom, her body moving backward, her steps becoming clumsy and awkward. He kept her close, using his body to give her balance, moving when she moved. They paused along the way as he pushed her body up against the wall and assaulted her neck with firm kisses that bruised and felt _oh so incredible_ on her skin. He moved her wrists from behind his head and pinned them above hers with one hand, the other drifting down to find her chin. He tilted her head back with his fingers, giving him more room to fill the space between her collarbones and the creases between the column of her neck and her soft feminine shoulders. His tongue darted out, smoothing out the bruising pressure of his kisses, as he blazed a trail across the entire top half of her chest. 

Betty let a sigh tumble out off of her lips, her eyes closed softly, taking it all in. His mouth found hers again and their tongues tangled and danced. He released his hand from her chin to travel down to the swell of her breasts, tracing a gentle path between the valley and over both peaks. He reached down to grab the hem of her t-shirt and pulled it gently over her head, her golden curls falling back against his hands as they came up to press softly onto her two perky breasts. 

Their breathing both labored, they stared into each other’s eyes, finding a storm swirling through the mists of blue and green. His eyes still attached to hers, Jughead daringly slipped a finger underneath the top of one bra cup, running a calloused finger over the gentle peak of her nipple. Betty’s mouth curved with another sigh, it slowly turning into a soft moan that echoed through the walls of her apartment. He brought his mouth down to her chest and his teeth reached out to nip the piece of fabric, pulling it down, watching as she sprang free before him. He brought his lips to the pink bud and slipped it inside, swirling around it with the gentlest of sucks. 

Her now free hands fell softly to his head, her fingers slipping off the crown beanie, her fingers fading into the midnight of his hair. She felt a power here, holding him to her chest like a babe, relishing in the soft suckling noises he made while he brought her closer to pleasure. One of his hands reached up to hold her waist firm while the other came to her stomach, trailing a line down with a single finger to the edge of her shorts. He traced around the curved edge of the top hem before giving them a swift tug, pulling them down to her ankles. He broke free from her breast to look down at her panties, finding a spot of navy on the pair of robin’s egg blue of the cotton, knowing she had darkened them with the damp proof of her arousal. 

He leaned down to press kisses just below the curve of each breast, his finger coming back up against her thigh to hover right above the spot where she was damp. He pressed his fingertip into her lightly and moaned deeply and long when he felt how wet she was. Betty’s head bucked back as her hips moved forward, burning for him to touch her. 

“Betty…” he whispered against her waistline as his finger snuck around the curve of her panties and found her core, soaking wet and dripping for him. He pushed into her, pumping in and out in response to each moan and gasp for air that came from her mouth. 

“You’re so tight, baby,” he whispered, and she nodded absentmindedly. It had been too long since she had felt the touch of man, much less a man that scorched the skin he touched. She moved with him, anticipating the feel of him pushing himself inside her with enough force to make her scream. She felt him push another finger into her and she threw her head forward, burying her lips into his hair. 

“Are you putting two in?” she moaned, feeling the delicious stretch as it burned throughout her core. He bit down on a soft patch of skin just below her right breast and she cried out. With the hand on her waist, he reached up and expertly undid the clasp of her bra on her back, and she slid it out off of her arms. 

He slipped out of her, and instantly she missed the flames he was fanning between her legs. She felt his fingers grip the edge of her panties and he yanked them down, the tempo between them suddenly speeding up. Once she was naked beneath him, he stood tall and pressed his body tight against her, pinning her wrists again above her head. The feel of him fully clothed, the cold rough denim of his jeans digging into the hot wet softness between her legs, felt so deliciously sinful she felt like crying. 

He was hard, achingly so, and dying for relief. First, he wanted to weave his power through her, to watch her become utter putty in his hands. Their hips moved against each other and he could feel her heat dampen the front of his jeans. He nearly lost it right there, but swiftly inhaled, trying to stay focused on making her come alive beneath him. He brought one hand down between her legs again and shoved a finger roughly inside her. 

She called out his name, her eyes nearly bulging out of her head, becoming lost in the way he felt pressing against the silken walls of her core. He brought his mouth to her neck and began to suck, right there above her collarbone, and it drove her wild. She could feel a familiar tingling begin to form at the tips of her toes, and as it travelled up the length of her body, she found herself preparing for utter calamity. Her body bucked against him, her back arching off the wall, her eyes rolling in the back of her head as nearly every appendage curled into itself. When her eyes finally closed, she could see stars. 

She felt like liquid in his hands, and when he released her wrists, they fell limply to his shoulders. Her knees buckled beneath her and he scooped her up, pressing kisses into her hair. “Not yet, baby. I’m not done with you yet.” 

He carried her to the bed, laying her down on the soft surface of her duvet like it was a bed of grass and she a beautiful princess in a meadow. As her eyes slowly opened back up, finally coming alive again, she watched as he shed his jacket and the sweater he wore underneath, tossing them to the side, his eyes never leaving hers. When he reached down to find the buckle on his jeans, she pressed a hand to his wrists. 

“Please,” she pleaded, and he understood. His eyes darkened as he watched her bring both hands to the edge of the denim, her tongue darting out to moisten her lips. She yanked him forward, bringing him closer to the edge of the bed. She crawled to her knees and popped the button, her eyes staring up at his. As her finger danced the length of the zipper, pulling it down to free him, she grazed against the hardened bulge. His eyes closed and she could hear the soft sounds of his breathing. She stripped him down, dropping the jeans and boxers to the ground, taking in a sharp inhale when he suddenly sprang free. 

He was thick, that she could see. She traced her hands up the back of his thighs, gripping them gently as she stared at the tip of him. There was a drop glistening, and she wet her lips again in anticipation, suddenly wanting to discover the way he tasted inside her mouth. She tilted her head down and her tongue slipped out slowly, smoothing over the tip of him in a stroke of hot breath, and Jughead thought he was about to die right there in Betty’s bedroom. 

She pressed a soft kiss to the tip, bringing the entire head into her mouth with a pull of her tongue. He let out a throaty groan that reverberated straight to the wet spot between Betty’s legs. She took more of him in her mouth, pressing the tip to the back of her throat. Before she could continue, she felt two hands pushing her back and she released him with a “pop.” She looked up at him and he leaned down to kiss her softly. 

“I need to feel you,” was all he said, and that’s all she needed to hear. She wrapped her arms around his back and pulled him down on top of her. They tumbled down to the sheets, his hips landing between her legs as she spread them out along the cool surface of the bed. He brought his hands up to frame her face and kissed her deeply, his tongue mingling with hers. One of her legs snaked around his hips, the heel of her foot digging into his bottom, and bringing him closer to her. She could feel his hard length come down to press against her, and she moved her hips in waves, enticing him to come find the heat within. 

He brought one hand down to grip himself, smoothing the edges of her wetness with his tip like paint on a brush. He looked down into her eyes and he slipped inside her, the first stroke to a masterpiece. He moved within her as she drowned him in her warmth. The slick sounds as he pumped in and out of her echoed around them, and Betty tossed her head back, joining in with the soft howls of her pleasure. They reached for each other, fingers clasping fingers, as their hips continued to rock back and forth, beat for beat, measure for measure. 

He bit down on her bottom lip, drawing it out between his teeth, before his tongue darted out to soothe. She reached up to nibble along his jawline, finding the little whiskers that formed there incredibly sensuous against the soft plumpness of her swollen lips. 

The fire within her began to build, a brand she had never experienced before. She knew her orgasm would come with a price, knowing this would be the point of no return, but she didn’t care, couldn’t care tonight. Right now, she just wanted to burn. 

Her body began to stiffen, the leg wrapped around his waist extending into the air as the one on the sheet stretched out, boneless, as the orgasm ripped through her system. 

With her leg in the air, Jughead found he could bury himself deeper within her, and as she came, wrapping around him tightly in pulsating waves of molten silk, he lost himself inside of her. He pushed deeper and spilled within her core, giving her everything he had – mind, body, and soul. 

They were frozen in time, their breathing labored, their hips glued together by the hot sticky wetness that came from within her. Their bodies shivered and he felt everything -- all of his sadness, all of his worry, all of his fear – melt away. 

He brought his lips down to meet hers once more and felt himself fade into her. 

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In the middle of the night, when the clock moved from three to four, they reached out to each other in the darkness. Lips found lips, hands found hands, and bodies found bodies as she rolled on top of him and took him inside her. 

As they moved, climbing a mountain of pure ecstasy threatening to blow, they erupted into a shattering mess of stars and found twilight. 

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 **Song: “Fix You Up” by Tegan and Sara**

Christmas Eve had come and the Oncology unit was buzzing with the cheerful spirit of the holidays. There were streamers of red and golden tinsel tacked to the walls in between each room and there were streamers of green paper cut-out Christmas trees dangling from the ceiling mixed with puffs of cotton snowflakes, a heavenly reminder that the staff could bring the festivities of the season right here to each patient stuck indoors. 

Betty floated from patient room to patient room, a playful pair of elf ears perched on top of her head, glued to a headband she had found at home. She painted little red spots on her cheeks to resemble the “rosy” glow of North Pole employees, the entire unit of nurses participating in this imaginative festive game of pretend. A few of the kids, healthy enough to leave their rooms for an hour or two of play, ran across the tiled floors from their rooms to the play area, a large space off to the side of the unit. There was a giant Christmas tree inside, littered with homemade ornaments from the patients and their families. At the base of the tree sat twenty individualized stuffed bears, one for each patient, surrounded by several cardboard boxes dressed as Christmas gifts. 

The holidays always brought out the best in Betty. She was cheerful, glowing in the golden haze of the Christmas spirit, the joy and hope that always came with gifts and cookies and snow. 

She walked into Jellybean’s room, carrying with her JB’s morning medications and a little sack of coal-shaped candies made by the kitchen staff. The little girl was sitting up in bed, cutting random shapes out of felt, and Betty could tell she was bored senseless. 

“What are you making?” Betty inquired, hoping a little interest in JB’s project would spark her energy. The girl shrugged, tossing aside the felt and setting the scissors carefully on top of her bedside table. 

“I don’t know. I’ve run out of ideas.” 

“What about a Santa hat? Maybe one for Mr. Cuddles?” she gestured to the stuffed dinosaur perched beside Jellybean in the bed. 

Jellybean laughed. “Nah, he’s not really a ‘Santa’ kind of guy.” She pointed to Betty’s elf ears. “He has more of a taste for your kind.” 

Betty chuckled. “Well, I’ll be sure to stay far away from Mr. Cuddles this holiday season. Time for meds, buckaroo.” 

Jellybean shuffled her hips closer to the edge of the bed, twisting off the top of a lime Gatorade to down the small paper cup of pills Betty handed her. 

Betty looked around, noticing the absence of a particular beanie-clad big brother. 

“Where’s Jug?” Betty asked, trying not to sound too interested. 

“Whhhyyy?” Jellybean drew out, winking at Betty in rapid succession. She giggled and Betty realized the jig was up. 

She laughed, shrugging her shoulders. “I don’t know. He’s always here hovering over you like a mama hen. It just seems weird with him being gone.” 

Jellybean, being the astute little girl that she was, grinned at Betty. “Come on, B. I’m not an idiot,” she proclaimed, sounding a lot older than nine all of a sudden. 

“Of course you’re not, you little squirt,” and Betty leaned in to playfully tickle Jellybean’s sides. The girl crumpled in on herself in a fit of giggles, squirming around, eliciting more laughter from her attacker. 

Just then, Jughead walked into JB’s room, clutching a cup of hot coffee. He paused, grinning as he watched them play. When they broke apart with his arrival, he made his way to the guest couch, tossing a plastic bag onto the hospital bed with JB. 

“There you go, kiddo. Merry Christmas,” he said as he settled into the cushions. Jellybean tore into the plastic shell and pulled out layers of tarp-like material, colored in disjointed stripes of orange and brown. There was one section of white with jagged black lines drawn all over. Betty came to a conclusion the same time as Jellybean – those were teeth. 

“A T-Rex costume? Juggie, you’re the absolute best!” She clutched the costume tight to her chest and squealed. Jughead smiled, looking pleased with himself, bringing the cup up to his lips to tip back a hot mouthful of coffee. Betty stood watching the two of them, a look of amazement spread from one rosy cheek to the other. 

“So it came in?” She gestured to the package. Jughead had told her days ago he had planned to order it for JB for the holidays. He nodded, his eyes a soft blue glow underneath the fluorescents of the hospital room. 

“Yeah, just in time I’d say, too.” He looked at Jellybean. “Wanna try it on, kid?” 

“Hell yeah!” JB shouted, jumping from the bed. Betty laughed at her enthusiasm. 

“Alright, I’m going to give you some privacy to change. I’ll come check out your costume in a bit. Don’t eat too many kids by the time I come back.” She rubbed the top of Jellybean’s head playfully. She walked out of the room and shut it softly, chuckling to herself. 

Betty made the rounds on her other three patients, her load a busy one this Christmas Eve shift. Once she was done, she peeked her head into the playroom. Three different families gathered around different play tables, some exchanging playing cards in a round of “Go Fish,” the others breaking off cookies from the snack trays set out for guests, celebrating the Christmas spirit with a bite of a green-frosted Christmas tree. 

The love that crossed from person to person filled Betty with a happiness she couldn’t describe, and a longing she couldn’t ignore. There was a part of her that wanted so desperately to be in their shoes. She didn’t want the sickness and the sadness, no, but the feeling of family. She wanted the hope she saw in each person’s eyes, ever-present no matter the circumstances. Betty knew she always wanted kids, but this scene before her, mixed with the hours of time spent caring for Jellybean, made her realize just how much she wanted it, the whole big picture – the baby and the husband and the unending love. 

Suddenly, three children came running up to Betty, tugging on her scrub pants for attention. 

“Miss Betty, come see the dinosaur!” they exclaimed, bouncing on their toes in excitement. Betty laughed, watching as they ran ahead, rounding the corner to the next pod of rooms. Betty followed, expecting to see Jellybean strutting through the hall, showing off her gift. When she turned and saw what the kids were jumping up and down for, her heart began to ache. 

Jughead stood crouched over, imitating the King of Dinosaurs, in his own T-Rex suit, matching that of the smaller JB. Betty could see the hole cut out in the chest for Jellybean to stick her head out of to breathe, and the grin she had was bright enough to light up the entire hospital. She was screaming out in sounds similar to that of an angry, hungry dinosaur, and Jughead followed suit. Together, they stomped around the crowd, reaching out for excited kids who giggled and laughed and hovered nervously around the legs of their bystanding parents. They turned inward and began a battle of the beasts, slapping at each other with their tiny little hands. 

Betty could tell the costume was too small for Jughead, the feet portion that was meant to cover shoes rising up mid-calf over his jeans. His tiny arms bounced around with the soft air that was blowing inside the self-inflatable suit. The ridiculousness of the moment, mixed with the affectionate way he embraced the posture of a T-Rex, filled her chest with so much laughter, it hurt. 

Jughead looked up at Betty with a laugh on his lips, shrugging simply and said, “So I ordered one for myself too.” 

And that’s when she knew. _She was in love with him._

Her chest swelled to an unimaginable size, beating roughly against her chest, and suddenly she felt like she couldn’t breathe. When did this happen? When had she fallen so head over heels for him that she was practically glued to the floor? 

She leaned back against the nurses’ station, desperate for a firm solid place to find balance, her knees threatening to quake beneath her and send her tumbling. 

She must have been in love with him this entire time. How else could she explain the unnoticeable shift in how she saw him before to how she saw him now? She found no difference, but her body felt like erupting through the ceiling before taking the hazy descent that could only be described as falling in love. 

Jughead crept up beside her, taking a break to catch his breath and watch his sister playfully terrorize the other kids. He leaned back against the station and pulled up the thin screen that covered his face. He was smiling so big and so goofy, she felt like melting into a puddle by his feet. 

“I’d say your gift was a big hit, Jones.” 

He turned to face her, a difficult feat considering the giant inflatable head he was sporting, but he managed to meet her eyes. 

“Yeah, it looks like it.” His eyes lingered for a moment before he turned to watch JB again. There was a warmth there, but a fear that Betty noticed. A fear for Jellybean or a fear for what they felt for each other, she wasn’t sure. 

“I think it’s awfully sweet of you. Jughead Jones has a soft side,” she teased. 

“Careful,” he warned playfully, “or I just might show you the beast within.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her, adding a fierce T-Rex growl, and she laughed, thinking back to their banter at the bar days ago. 

Jellybean continued to stalk around and Betty thought she had never seen the girl look happier. She knew this moment was needed. She knew it would be enough to give her strength to get through the day. 

“Thank you,” she said softly, her eyes still glued to the nine year-old in front of her. “Thank you for getting into that costume, not caring how silly it made you look – for making her so happy.” 

Without missing a beat, Jughead replied, “Of course. I’d do anything for her.” And Betty knew he would. 

She reached over and laid her hand over one of his tiny T-Rex claws. They both looked down at the exchange and laughed out loud, both feeling it spread from their toes to the tips of their scalps. 

They stayed there for what felt like hours, hands still held, watching the little sick girl in front of them thrive. 

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 **Song: “Fools Like Me” by Lisa Loeb**

“Burgers are nearly done,” she could hear Jughead call out from the kitchen. Betty stood facing the frosty wonderland outside the window from the tiny living room space. All around her, there were pieces of Jughead and Jellybean, from the décor to the DVD collection that sat beside a giant television screen. _Reservoir Dogs_ and _To Kill a Mockingbird_ mingled comfortably with the _Jurassic Park_ poster tacked to the wall. There was a record player on a stand, filling the space with the soft Jersey wailing of Bruce Springsteen. 

Jughead stood tall in the accompanying kitchen, attached to the side of the living room with an opening in the wall for visiting. She could see him chopping something vigorously, his face tense with concentration. She folded her arms across her chest and chuckled. 

“You’re going to give yourself an aneurysm concentrating that hard.” 

He stopped his chopping and lifted his head to face her. She could see his teasing smile from across the room. 

“Does this mean I’ll get the full Nurse Betty treatment?” 

She sauntered over to meet him, coming up from behind before pressing her lips to the wide expanse of his back. Her arms folded over his chest and he dropped the knife in his hand, bringing his fingers back up to cover hers and deepen their embrace. 

Feeling like being a little playful, she pushed her breasts into his back and trailed one of her hands down to dip below his hips. Her fingertips traced the outline of him as he hardened beneath her hand through his jeans, and she heard a soft moan escape his lips. 

“Only if you’re lucky, Mr. Jones.” 

He quickly swung around and gripped the curve above her thighs, causing her to shout out in surprise as he lifted her off the ground and planted her firmly on the counter behind them. She wrapped her legs around him as his mouth crashed into hers. 

She loved how playful they had become in such a short span of time. She never imagined she would fall for the parent of a patient, always keeping that boundary up between work and play. She was so thankful, though, hoping part of his recent happiness attributed to her presence in his life. Things with Jellybean had been so tense after Dr. Klempner’s recent bout of bad news. Betty was happy she and Jughead decided to have a true first date, putting their troubles to bed for a night. 

He leaned over to nibble on her ear and she squirmed underneath him. 

“Oh nurse,” he whispered teasingly, his breath hot on her earlobe. “I’ve got this pain that I can’t seem to get rid of. Can you help me?” 

She bit her bottom lip, sucking it inward and chuckled softly. “Where does it hurt?” 

She expected him to be lascivious and lewd, placing her hand on the hard bulge in his pants, or her fingers in the soft wet cavern of his mouth. Instead, he brought her hand to his chest, laying it gently over his heart, and she nearly stopped breathing. 

Their faces pulled away slowly and he watched her as she put the pieces together in her mind. He wanted to tell her, wanted to find the right words to say to let her know how he felt. Instead, how found the only way he could, by showing her exactly where he ached for her every moment she was gone, and every moment he spent with her when she was busy soothing a sick Jellybean. 

Betty swallowed the spit that had gathered in her throat, her mind buzzing with a sudden rush of blood to her head. Was he really telling her he loved her? Betty had been so hurt in the past, so let down and disappointed by nearly every person she had put her faith into. She needed to hear him say it to know for sure. 

She cleared her throat and moved to hop off the counter. Trying to keep the mood light, she reached over to pinch his backside. “Your burgers are burning there, hot stuff.” 

They sat around the tiny dining room table Jughead usually had shoved against the kitchen wall, devouring bits of pasta salad, burger, and fresh cut French fries he had made himself. 

Betty tried to keep their dinner conversation light. “So have you heard from Archie at all recently? I feel like Veronica has been too busy to take any of my phone calls.” 

Jughead stabbed a forkful of pasta, bringing it to his lips. “Not really. I guess they’ve found better things to do than bother with the likes of us.” He took in the bite and chewed it around. 

Betty chuckled, “I hear she actually went to one of this games. They _must_ be getting serious. I haven’t seen Veronica on a field since her cheerleading days at Columbia.” 

Jughead cocked an eyebrow up at her. “What about you? Got one of those cheerleader uniforms in your closet too?” 

She smiled, biting down on her bottom lip. “Not quite. I spent most of my time focused more on learning pills than pompoms. Nursing school was no joke.” She put a fry to her lips teasingly. “I might have an old candy-striper uniform that still fits though.” 

That made Jughead laugh, his mind filled with thoughts of her in a tight pink and white dress, the image of pure innocence. He had to shuffle around in his seat to readjust for the tightening of his jeans. 

“I like your place. You’ve made a good home for her, here, Jug.” 

He smiled through a bite of burger. “Thank you. I’ve made the best of what I had, I guess. It certainly hasn’t been easy.” 

Betty looked down at her plate, hesitating to ask the next question on her lips. 

“What happened to your parents, Jughead?” 

She could hear the clink of his fork as it slipped from his fingers and fell to the table. There was a silence that swept over the dinner table before she heard him pick his fork back up and start chewing. 

“It’s complicated, Betty.” 

_Oh no,_ she thought, _I’m not going to let you go that easily._

She set her fork down and folded her hands together, laying them on the table. “I think you know me enough by now to know I can handle complicated.” 

He looked up at her and she could see the fight developing in his eyes. He took the last bite left on his plate and she continued to sit and wait. He stood to take his dishes, deciding she had waited long enough. 

“It’s quite the gruesome tale. It involves a man with an addiction to alcohol, a woman who thought she could do better, and two kids left out in the metaphorical cold. Does that paint enough of a picture for you?” 

She could hear the cold edge of steel in his voice, but she pushed through, her mind more stubborn than stone. “So your parents left when you were kids? Is that what I’m gathering?” 

She stood and grabbed her own plate, following him deeper into the kitchen near the sink. He took a breath before letting it out, tossing his plate and silverware into the sink. Betty could hear the porcelain shatter. 

“Yeah, pretty much. Sounds like a really wonderful pair, don’t they? My dad was so consumed with concerns over where he could get his next drink, he completely missed the signs when my mother began to back away from her family. After Jellybean was born, she couldn’t bring herself to stick around.” He slowly began to shake. “What kind of mother leaves behind her new baby, makes her teenage son pick up the slack? What kind of father sits back and watches his family fall apart?” He gripped the edge of the sink until his skin turned white. 

Betty placed a gentle hand over his knuckles, the other hand settling on the small of his back, and she felt him settle. He turned to face her, a new kind of sadness there, a buried kind of sadness that only rears its ugly head when uncovered. She reached up to cup his face and spoke so simply, it made his heart ache. 

“The kind that never deserved you.” 

He leaned forward, resting his forehead on hers, and he found his breath again. They rested there, eyes closed, inhaling the energy off of each other. She pressed a soft kiss to his lips and then to each of his temples before grabbing his hands, bringing them up for her to brush consoling lips over knuckles. 

He sighed into her and brought her in close, embracing her in a hug so intimate, she knew they were both goners. 

“So, tell me, what is your favorite thing to do here with Jellybean?” 

Jughead opened his eyes and sought hers out. He smiled. 

“Let me show you.” 

Minutes later, they were nestled beneath a blanket fort on the roof top in a section untouched by the snow. There was a large telescope planted next to their shelter. 

“Every Saturday, JB and I would make a fort in the living room and watch action movies.” He chuckled and she watched as his face lit up again, a welcome change from the anguish painted there earlier. “It’s kind of our thing. And I made that telescope,” he gestured to the contraption next to them. “So you’re getting two JB specials in one night.” 

She pressed into his side as his body leaned over hers, a second shelter from the cold chill around them. 

“I must be one lucky girl, then.” 

Jughead looked down at her, his eyes trailing along the length of her body before landing in the orbs of green staring back up at him. “You’re really special to me, Betty. You’re really special to JB.” 

She reached up to touch the edge of his face, tracing small circles around his jawline. He closed his eyes and turned into her caress, kissing her fingers softly. 

“Show me the stars, Jughead Jones.” 

He opened his eyes slowly and brought his lips back down to hers, pressing into them with a sweetness that sent goosebumps racing across her skin. He pulled away, leaning back to sit on his heels before pulling up to stand. He held a hand out for her and she took it. When she got to her feet, he led her to the telescope and positioned her behind the eye piece. 

“Okay, stand here and look into the lens here. I’m going to position the scope. Just tell me what you see.” 

At first, all Betty could see were the tops of the buildings across the skyline, but as he maneuvered the machine upward, she let out a sharp gasp, amazed at the kaleidoscope of shimmering color blanketed across the sky, seen through the tiny lens of the eye piece. 

“Jughead, it’s so beautiful.” She gasped again. “The city’s so covered in fog, I didn’t think there were that many stars in the sky.” 

He watched her as her mouth hung open in shock and awe. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. How did he ever expect himself to not fall in love with her? Just the sight of her took his breath away. How could he have spoken to her, heard the soft might of her voice and the high-pitched lullaby of her laughter, and not know he was meant to fall completely head over ass for her? 

“Betts…” 

She pried her eyes away from the eye piece, taken aback by the use of this new nickname. When their eyes met, Jughead lost all nerve, and he swallowed back the words he still couldn’t say. 

Instead, he brushed a soft kiss against her lips, a gesture so tender it had Betty’s heart swelling within her chest. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he backed her up to the fort, lowering her down onto the stack of comforters. One hand propped him up while the other ran down the soft lines of her body, watching as her eyes opened and closed in response to his touch. 

They kissed and caressed, shedding their clothes like shedding their skins, huddled together for warmth as their bodies connected, finding security in each other from the breeze that beckoned outside of the fort. 

They unraveled together, coming undone over and over. It was the sweetest kind of dream, Betty thought to herself, as she drifted to sleep, lulled by the sounds of his kisses on her skin and the feeling of him pulsing like a heartbeat within her. 

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It was just after midnight when Jughead awoke, his body aching from the cold that had breached the tent and nestled in his bones. He reached for a comforter to cover Betty as he slipped back into his jeans. He could hear the slow sounds of her slumber, watching the silver of her hair in the moonlight rustle against the weight of her breathing, and thought she looked like a star fallen from the sky. 

He wrapped the comforter around her naked body and gathered her up into his arms. He would come back to get their clothes and the rest of the fort in the morning. 

As he was getting ready to descend the single flight of steps on the fire escape, he clutched Betty tight to his chest. She was tiny, feeling as if she weighed only a stone more than Jellybean, who he had carried many a summer night after she had fallen asleep under the stars to the sounds of the city below. 

Betty nestled her face into the firm cushion of Jughead’s chest, breathing him in. She whimpered a bit at the cold. 

“Did we fall asleep?” 

“Yes, baby,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head to coo her back to sleep. Her arms unfolded and stretched out from his embrace just as he was carrying her through the window. Her sleepy eyes opened and she adjusted to the darkness inside the apartment. She moaned as the warm air covered her icy skin. 

She felt the weight of his hands on her back as he carried her and suddenly she felt a longing so strong, she knew it would be impossible to sleep. 

“Juggie, stop.” 

Jughead froze in place, halted by both her request and her use of the nickname, used solely by his sister. He found he liked hearing it roll off her tongue the way it had. 

He looked down at her and could see the lust burning in her eyes. 

“Take me, right here. Right now.” 

He pulled her in toward his body and she readjusted, pushing up to anchor herself against his chest as she worked to wrap her slim legs around his waist. He carried her to the couch, reaching down to unzip his pants on the way, slipping out of them as they fell to his ankles along with the blanket that covered Betty. He sat down firmly on the couch and brought her down on top of him, the hot hurricane of her center a sharp and exciting contrast to the cold porcelain of her skin. 

Betty began to move, slowly, softly, her eyes trained on Jughead’s. With the way she was looking at him, sleepy eyes drunk on the passion between them, he was so turned on, he knew he wouldn’t be able to last long. 

Jughead gripped the junction between her hips and thighs and pressed her down hard against him, stalling her movements while he lifted his hips and pumped into her hard and fast, feeling every inch of him up to the base buried deep within her silken heat. She tossed her head back violently and screamed, suddenly alive and awake, the feeling of him so deep within her, it was like he was carving her out from the inside. 

Jughead reached up with one hand, firmly grasping her chin and rubbing his thumb over her bottom lip, pulling it down to shape her mouth in a pretty little “O” as she was already approaching closure. Her eyes watched as the lust spread through his pupils as they dilated, an intensity within them so strong that it scared her. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful, baby.” He reached out with his mouth and placed soft kisses along her jawline, a sharp contrast to his firm grip on her chin. He tilted his head back up, his eyes glued to her eyes, her mouth, the color that crept up along her cheeks signaling how close she was to finishing. 

“Come for me, baby,” he urged her on. “Come for me, Elizabeth.” Betty’s eyes, once closed tightly in pleasure, opened to bore into his before she tipped over and lost herself. Jughead brought his hips up once more, a swift and deep shove into her hot wetness, and she fell over the edge, flying toward the depths of unending ecstasy as her slick orgasm came pouring out all over him. Her head tilted back and his fell forward, biting into the flesh just below her collarbone in reflex as her walls went from fluttering to near shut down, clamping down on him so tightly he thought he might lose himself within her completely. Even as they sat still, it took only seconds of her vicelike grip before he spilled himself inside her, gravity bringing their unique mixture back down to slide along his length and pool beneath them. 

Her arms rested along the tops of his broad shoulders, her hands dangling limply, her bones feeling like liquid gold and her skin a warm sack of nerves firing impulsively like fireworks in the sky. The climb was always an adventure, but to Betty, the come down, the descent from the peak of madness, felt like floating, her spirit resting on a cloud that drifted back down to earth like a weightless feather. The room around them now was sweltering. Beads of sweat no longer clung to their pressed bodies as the drops drifted down across glistening skin. Jughead’s mouth, still pressed into her chest, shivered slightly, pressing a sweet kiss to her skin. He gathered enough energy to lift his head up to face her. 

Seeing his face meet hers with a glazed expression of something mixed with equal parts love and calm filled Betty with a swelling that pooled up within her heart and threatened to spill over. She had never seen Jughead look so vulnerable before her, and in that moment she knew – the brash and mysterious dark-haired stranger with more walls than any fortress she could envision had let one down for her right there, in that spot on the couch where their bodies were still joined. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was the worst day of his life, the kind of day every parent fears. Jughead Jones could only watch in horror as his sister, Jellybean, wrestled with a sickness that he couldn’t control. While dealing with the prognosis, Jughead couldn’t ignore the ray of hope keeping him grounded through the sadness in the form of Pediatric Oncology Nurse Betty Cooper. Can he learn to love while living in a nightmare? Can she learn to put aside her insecurities and conflicting feelings to fall for the father figure of her patient?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for so many wonderful reviews and compliments. I love reading your thoughts on the chapter and your concerns/excitement for the moments yet to be posted. I love how everyone seemed to respond so well to the T-Rex scene. I’ve actually experienced a scene similar to that in real life, and it was too precious not to share in this story. I think it truly encompasses how much Jughead truly loves his sister and would do anything for her. Our guy is not the boldest crayon in the bunch, but for the people we love, we often find ourselves taking measures we never expected we would.
> 
> I know I’ve mentioned how grateful I am for your kudos/comments before, but as I’ve seen doubts floating around tumblr, let me just say if you ever want to post a comment but are feeling self-conscious, worried your comments might be ignored or taken lightly, you don’t ever have to worry about that with me, or probably any writer in the Riverdale fandom from what I’ve seen. We love hearing your thoughts, and I’m definitely open to talking about my story(ies) or just about Riverdale or BH or SH or whatever you need to vent about. I’m an ally here for you :) I’m on tumblr: elegantmoonchild 
> 
> Okay, so here we go with the angst. I promise to be here with virtual hugs if you need them.
> 
> I do not own the rights to the Archie Comics or Riverdale, and the content of this story is strictly from my own imagination.

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The days began to bleed into each other, one turning into the next, as Jellybean fought her way through the second cycle of chemotherapy. Winter began to shift into spring, and Jughead and Betty had both been hopeful for the upcoming maintenance period that would come after JB finished her round of prophylactic antibiotics. Her outlook was beginning to improve and her attitude was sharper than ever. Betty had grown close with the young girl, their personalities both bouncing off of each other with energy and affection. Jughead watched as they grew closer, and he felt like his heart couldn’t expand any more than it did seeing them together. 

Archie had finally made an appearance again, he and Veronica coming up for air long enough to make a handful of visits up to the hospital to see Jellybean. Though JB and Veronica were very different people, Betty had to admit her best friend had made quick work of becoming friends with the small girl. Archie, ever the goofball, would play around with JB, filling her with loud, raucous laughter, and Jughead would sit on the couch, Betty curled under his arm – the entire scene feeling a little more Hallmark than any of them could ever realize. 

The day the newest pet therapy dog came in to visit the patients, Betty thought she had never seen JB happier. A large, shaggy sheepdog came ambling into her room one day, Betty and Jughead busy exchanging cards with JB during a bedside round of the card game “Crazy Eights.” Their heads all turned to the doorway and immediately Jellybean squealed, throwing her hands up into the air with excitement as she scurried over to the other side of the bed, scattering the cards spread out over the bedsheets. 

The dog’s owner, an elderly woman with tightly curled white hair, inched over to JB’s bed, kneeling down to greet her. Betty thought she looked remarkably a lot like the dog she was carting around, but she made sure to keep her thoughts to herself, stifling a laugh. The sheepdog strolled up next to the girl and his owner and placed his paws up on the bed, leaning up to look directly into JB’s eyes. Without warning, his long slobbery tongue slipped out and streaked across the girl’s face. The owner, slightly embarrassed by the dog’s invasive nature, pulled him back a bit with a tug of his leash. 

“I’m sorry, he’s usually not this overly friendly.” She looked down at Jellybean, who was still giggling and reaching out to pet the dog softly around the ears. “He must really like you.” 

Betty watched as the girl continued to stroke the sheepdog’s thick fur, lost in her own world of pure and simple joy. 

“What’s the dog’s name?” Betty asked, reaching over to hold Jughead’s hand. She could feel him tense with nerves, overwhelmed by the sight of his sister entrenched in utter happiness for the first time in days. 

The older lady piped up. “Hot Dog,” she said, smiling down at JB. The girl giggled out loud as the dog licked her hand in one giant lap. 

“That’s a silly name,” she said. “But I think it fits.” She scrubbed his fur again with her fingers and he dug down deep into the floor, lost in the ecstasy that came with a good scratching. 

The woman reached into the knapsack that hung around her midsection. “This Hot Dog can’t stay for much longer, but I can see how much he really likes you and you really like him. Would you like to keep a little version of Hot Dog with you here in the hospital?” 

Jellybean looked up, curious at the woman’s promise, watching as the owner retrieved a small stuffed version of the very alive dog before them. 

“I only have a few of these,” she winked, “for very special little patients.” She handed the toy over and Jellybean pressed it into her chest like she would never let go. 

The woman pulled back on the leash. “Come on, Hot Dog, it’s time to say goodbye to the pretty girl. We need to go say hello to the other kids.” 

The dog stayed glued to the floor, an unspoken conversation transferred from his eyes to Jellybean’s. The girl reached out for a final pet, leaning down over the bed railing to press a soft kiss on the top of the dog’s head. 

“Go ahead, boy. I’ll see you again later.” 

The dog took this as permission to leave, delivering a swift loud bark of goodbye before circling around to follow his owner out of the door. Betty and Jughead waved goodbye to the woman, thanking her for bringing the dog around to see Jellybean. 

The little girl curled up with the stuffed dog, laying back down on the bed for a nap. Betty stepped over to the bed, collecting the cards and stacking them neatly on the bedside table. Jughead leaned over to one of the couch arms, leaving a space in between his legs for Betty. When she was finished tidying up, she crawled into the space, pulling the covers up over them both. 

Within minutes, the threesome were pulled into sleep, a nap that came easy and swift, the first of its kind in days. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------

The ease was short-lived, however. Over the next few days, the promise of freedom from the walls of the hospital was yanked away as Jellybean’s health began to deteriorate. Another bout of pneumonia had claimed her, wiping out her energy and appetite completely. She spent most of her days in bed, falling in and out of sleep, while Jughead’s nights became more and more sleepless. He was wracked with guilt, ashamed that he had been spending more time away from the hospital than he had intended. He had fallen into a pattern with Betty, leaving the hospital with her around bedtime when Jellybean had slipped into sleep and returning the next morning just before Jellybean had awakened. He was happy to have found moments of peace here and there with Betty, however he had to remind himself that JB had to be his first priority. Her needs came first, and with this new wave of sickness, he convinced himself that he needed to be by her side at all times. 

Betty understood his hesitancy to join her anywhere outside of the hospital. Her concerns about Jellybean had also grown, advancing into a territory she worried JB wouldn’t be able to get herself out of. She could see it in Dr. Klempner’s eyes every time she rounded on Jellybean, could read between the lines of her progress reports when she sat with Jughead at each visit to explain JB’s status. Betty remembered the promise she had made to Jughead to keep him informed, to be honest with him about Jellybean’s prognosis. However, as she watched him grow from worn out to completely haggard, she had to question whether she could honor her vow. 

Truthfully, sleep had evaded Betty as well. Initially, she had spent her nights away from the hospital, giving Jughead and his sister time together without her. She had tossed and turned, missing the newly familiar feel of Jughead’s body in her bed, until she gave up and began spending her nights with him there in the hospital room. 

It wasn’t all for missing Jughead, though. Betty had grown attached to his sister, feeling like she had become a part of her life in such a big way. Betty began making daily trips to get them fresh clothes from Jughead’s apartment or would rush out into the traffic of the day to find the one thing Jellybean was craving when her appetite had momentarily come back. She found herself a part of their narrative, easing into it with a comfort she hadn’t expected. 

The fact that she was madly, wildly, sorrowfully in love with Jughead definitely played a role in her motives, but honestly, she began to look at Jellybean in a new light. She had even dared -- in moments where the three of them nestled together in the room watching a movie, or when she was with Jellybean one-on-one on the rare occasions Jughead stepped out for food -- to see Jellybean like a daughter, the child she so desperately craved, the family she wanted more than anything. 

On this particular February morning, Betty had arisen early to clean up the hospital room, folding up the dirty clothes that littered a small spot in a corner and dropping them into a bag for her to take home later to wash. Jughead was still asleep, snoring softly into the pillow on the pull-out couch. He had been up throughout the midnight hours with Jellybean when she was hit with another vomiting spell, and held her hand when the night nurse came in to draw blood around 3 am. 

Betty was worried, the nausea coming as a poor sign. She knew the labs were most likely ordered by the physician in an attempt to track any changes in JB’s prognosis. She had a harrowing feeling the results would not be promising. 

It was nearing 8 am when there came a soft knock on the door. It opened and Dr. Klempner stepped inside, her white coat billowing gently around her legs. She made eye contact with Betty and smiled. 

Betty set the stack of trash in her hands down into the garbage can and inched over to the physician. 

“How’s it going?” Dr. Klempner asked. Betty folded her arms across her chest and shook her head softly. 

“Not good. She was up again all night vomiting. She finally got settled around four. She’s been passed out ever since.” 

Dr. Klempner nodded, listening. There was a moment before she continued. “Betty… I need you to wake Jughead.” 

Betty turned her head to look at her directly. The lines on her face were pulled in close together, her jawline set and Betty could tell her teeth were clenched together. The pit of her stomach fell. 

She took in a sharp inhale and nodded. “Okay, give us a minute.” She stepped over to the couch and leaned over, laying a hand gently on Jughead’s arm. She shook it gently, coaxing him to wake. He groaned lightly, tossing around a bit in response before his eyes opened, glazed over with sleep. 

“Betty,” he mumbled. “What is it?” 

She whispered softly into his ear, “Dr. Klempner is here. She needs to talk with us.” 

He nodded himself out of sleep, sitting up swiftly and pushing back the covers. He slid to dangle over the couch, reaching up over his head to stretch, before standing to approach the two women. 

“What’s going on, doc?” His face became increasingly tense with worry. 

“Jughead,” Dr. Klempner whispered, her words dripping with anxious nerves and something else. Sadness, Betty thought. “I think we should go somewhere to talk for a bit.” 

“You can tell me,” a tiny voice muttered. They all turned to see Jellybean stir, curling into herself with her head peeking out of the sheet to stare up at them. She looked like a wounded animal, tired with just barely enough fight left. “Whatever you need to tell them, you can tell me. I want to hear it.” 

The doctor exchanged a glance with Jughead and he nodded, giving her permission to continue. She looked at Betty, and there was an apology written in her eyes. “Betty, I’m sorry, but I need this moment to speak to family only.” 

Betty’s heart felt the pinch as she realized she had no legal right to be there. Before she could leave, however, Jughead shook his head and reached for her hand. The look on Dr. Klempner’s face was of mild surprise. 

“No, she can stay. I’d like her to be here for this.” 

Dr. Klempner nodded. “Okay then.” She backed up lightly into a chair by the door. “Please, take a seat you two.” She gestured toward the couch. Jughead pulled a chair up next to the bed beside his from the night previously and motioned for Betty to sit down. He settled into the other chair and placed a hand gently on Jellybean’s back, reaching for Betty’s hand with his other. 

_The symbol of family_ that both he and Betty could feel. 

Dr. Klempner cleared her throat and Jughead felt the world around him take a dark, swift plunge. 

Jellybean’s leukemia had been unresponsiveness for the most part to the chemotherapy treatments. Their options were running out, and mixed with her susceptibility to a second go-around with pneumonia, Jellybean’s prognosis looked poor. When the word “terminal” was introduced, Betty could feel Jughead grip her hand tighter. 

He managed to hold it together, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill. He tried his best to stay strong for his sister, and for the most part Jellybean exhibited the same kind of emotional control. She had been in so much pain lately, and was so tired, she couldn’t find it within herself to fight this outcome. She withered into herself after Dr. Klempner finished and fell into another round of sleep, a few tears escaping her eyes just as she was drifting off. 

Dr. Klempner spent the next few minutes discussing the plan further with Jughead – how to move forward, changes in regards to Jellybean’s resuscitation status, and what they planned to do after. _After Jellybean’s dead_ – the bitter thought hanging above them like a cloud waiting to thunder. 

When the physician left, Jughead’s head dropped and fell in between his hands. Betty ran her hand along his spine, comforting him as much as she could manage. 

“Why don’t you go get some coffee, Jug? I’ll be right here with JB.” Her hand squeezed his shoulder lightly, as if giving him the little nudge to take a break from the mounting worry he carried around like a weight. 

Jughead nodded softly. “Yeah, that’s fine. I need to call the insurance company anyway.” He reached back to grab the hand on his shoulders, squeezing it lightly in response. “Thank you.” 

He rubbed his hands furiously over his face, as if fighting to stay awake, before he reached down and grabbed a sweater lying over the couch. He pulled it over his head, straightening the hem, and exited the room. Immediately, the atmosphere felt lighter while Betty stood there with Jellybean. 

She looked down at the girl, who had awakened again and turned in her bed to face the window, her eyes trained on the sunlight coming through the open curtains. Hoping to lighten up the mood, Betty plopped down by JB’s feet on the hospital bed, placing a soft and gentle hand over her calf. 

“I heard there was homemade banana pudding in the break room from yesterday. Feel like eating a little? I can snag you some,” Betty suggested cheerfully, hoping the prospect of a sugary snack would perk her up. 

Jellybean continued to look out the window, a glaze of contemplation spread over the small features of her face. She was silent for a moment, but just as Betty stood from the bed, anxious to break the awkward silence by tidying up the room, Jellybean cleared her throat. 

“Do you think he’ll be okay?” 

It was a simple question, but Betty could feel the weight of her words. 

Jellybean was worried about her brother. She had always been a very keen observer, her watchful eye glued to the actions of her older sibling. She had watched as he struggled to provide for them both, staying up sometimes deep into the night to finish the column that would put food on the table for that week. She remembered all of the times she would sneak out of her bedroom, wrapped tight in a quilt, and stare as Jughead became flustered, cursing underneath his breath, not knowing she was awake and watching. 

Ever since she was old enough to be teased, she noticed how different her dynamic with Jughead was compared to the kids in her classroom. They all had mommies and daddy’s who dropped them off at school, would come bring a special lunch on the holidays to share with their children. Sure, she had Jughead, and she was never without affection or love or true devotion, but deep down, words cut, slicing through the peaceful reality she had built where all she needed was her brother. As kids mocked her and chided her, laughing about being without a parent, using choice words and phrases like “orphan” and “stupid” and “no one really loves you,” Jellybean could feel the insults sink into her hard external. They slipped through the cracks and bruised her heart. 

She heard snippets from Jughead’s conversations with Archie about her mom and dad, enough to piece together the portrait of an uncomfortable family she was probably better without. Her dad was a drunk. Her mother left them. Still, there hung this naive air of hope, a cross not meant for a school-age child to bear, that one day her parents would show up and love her. Jughead had been enough, that she would swear until her dying breath, but she couldn’t deny the hurt of being left behind, of not feeling good enough. Of course, she could never say this to her brother. She knew it would break his heart. 

Betty slowly sat back down on the bed, facing Jellybean, her hand resuming its place on her leg. “I think Jughead will feel incredibly sad. I think he will feel lost without you for a while,” and then she inhaled. “But yes, I think he’ll be okay.” 

Time skipped a beat, another silent pause in the space between the two of them. 

“Can you tell me a story, Betty? About you growing up, when you were a kid.” Jellybean shuffled around in the bed until she faced her, her eyes aglow with curiosity. 

Betty nodded softly, complying. “Once, when I was a little girl, probably younger than your age, my mom and dad took me to the zoo in a little town in Connecticut. I’m not sure why we were there, but I remember it was one of my best days.” She smiled, pulling the memory back into view. “We had walked around for what felt like hours. There were so many different animals. My mom had encouraged me to write down every animal we came across, a kind of report, you know?” She cleared her throat, explaining, “My parents are journalists. They report on things for a living. By the end of the day, I had so many animals on the paper, it felt like it was more than I could count. I got to watch as the zookeepers got to feed the animals and take care of them. When we got around to the petting zoo portion of our tour, I got to hold the baby chicks and feed a lamb out of the palm of my hand. I think that’s when I first knew I liked taking care of things, of people and animals.” 

Jellybean watched Betty as she narrated, catching the diamond-like sparkle that shone in her eyes, a mixture of mirth and sunlight from the window. “I think you made the right choice, Betty.” Jellybean smiled at her. 

Betty let out a whoosh of air from her pursed lips. “I sure hope so. It would be a shame to spend all this time taking care of people if I was bad at it.” She winked at JB, eliciting a tiny giggle from the small girl. 

“Your parents must really have loved you to take you to the zoo.” 

Betty looked down at Jellybean and found her suddenly forlorn, swept up in the hurt of her own parents’ dismissal. 

In that moment, Betty regretted all of the times she called Alice “overbearing.” It was one thing to have a mother who cared too much, and another to have a mother who was never there. 

“My mom had her moments, but yes, I was loved.” She reached out and brushed the top of her hand over Jellybean’s. “You were loved too.” 

Jellybean smiled at the contact, thankful for the kindness in Betty’s words. After a moment, though, she turned away, and a streak of guilt came crawling across her face. 

“I know my dad’s a drunk and my mom didn’t want me. I know Jughead doesn’t think I know, but I do. I’ve known for a while now.” She looked up at Betty, anchoring her with her gaze. “I called my dad, Betty. I found his number on an old piece of paper in Jug’s bedroom a long time ago, not really needing it until now. I called him when I first got sick. I…” and her lip began to quiver. “I didn’t want to die without knowing the truth.” 

Betty stared down at her in awe, wondering how this tiny creature could have become so grown. Though she was saddened by the prospect of the “truth” that Jellybean had found, Betty had to admit that the girl’s motives were understandable. If Betty was dying, she knew she’d do everything she could to leave no question unanswered. 

Her hand gripped JB’s tighter, showing support. “Did you find what you were looking for?” 

Jellybean continued to look down at the sheets of the hospital bed, her other hand finding interest in a stray piece of string coming off of the hem. “Yeah, I guess.” She sighed. “He said he was sorry. He said what he could say to make it better, but I don’t know if it’ll ever be better. I don’t know if it will ever be okay.” And then she looked right at Betty, her stare direct, understanding. “But it will have to be okay with me. I don’t really have any other choice. I don’t have the luxury Jughead has of hating our parents. I don’t have that kind of time.” 

Betty swallowed, suddenly at a loss for words. Jellybean was right. Her time was limited, Jughead’s was not. She would have to accept an apology, accept the reality as it was now because there would be no opportunity to wait around and watch what happens next. Jughead would have the freedom to go on hating his mom, hating his dad for his entire life, however lengthy that was. Betty had to consider which reality was saddest. 

“You can’t let him know, Betty. You can’t let him know what I know.” A death bed wish, a promise Betty knew she would have to honor. 

“I give you my word, Jellybean.” 

“You make him happy, you know? You brought back a spark in him I haven’t seen in a long time.” Jellybean reached for the stuffed dog half-buried in the sheet beside her, holding it close against her chest with one hand. “I guess he just got lost in the role of being a parent, of taking care of the life of someone else. He forgot what it was like to have something of his own.” 

Betty grinned down at her softly. “How’d you get to be so wise for such a young girl?” 

Jellybean giggled back at her. 

There was a soft knock on the door frame. Betty looked up to see Jughead carrying two large coffees, his face gray and pale and shadowed with old whiskers, the shade of worry and stress. 

He took in his framed view of the woman and the girl embracing in front of him, hand covered over hand. “Am I interrupting something?” 

Betty shook her head, swallowing back the lump that had begun to form in her throat. “Not at all, Jug.” She stood, stretching out her legs, and Jellybean leaned back down in the bed, curling up next to her stuffed dog. Her eyes closed and she began to fade into sleep. 

Jughead walked in, extending a coffee to Betty. “How’s she doing?” 

Betty tipped her head from shoulder to shoulder, hoping to pop out some of the stress that had made a home there. “She’s doing okay. I think she just wants some rest for a little bit.” She leaned over and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. “Why don’t you take a shower, freshen up a bit? She’s just going to nap. I’m going to go chat with friend for a few minutes. I’ll be back in a bit.” 

Jughead nodded, taking a sip of his coffee before heading into the bathroom, heeding her advice. Betty stepped out of the room, quietly shutting the door behind her. She made her way over to the office in the next pod over, the door half open in semi-invitation. She knocked lightly, waiting for the man sitting at the computer before her to look up and allow her entry. 

Kevin Keller, the daytime unit manager, sat typing away at the computer, entering in data on a spreadsheet program. He was sandy-haired with soft facial features and a large smile, and when he looked up and saw her, he grinned. “Hey Betty, come on in.” 

Betty sidled her way further into the office, not much bigger than a broom closet, and slid into the chair facing the desk. “Hey Kev, how’s it going?” She took a sip from the coffee Jughead had provided. 

Kevin shook his head lightly, his lips pursed in contemplation. “Not much, not much. It’s been a pretty slow day on the unit, actually.” He took a second, watching the way she fiddled with the cardboard sleeve around her coffee cup, the ache of poor sleep and impending sadness showing through the cracks of her normal “perky Betty” persona. 

“How’s it been… with Jellybean? She doing okay?” 

Betty shook her head, though less of a “no” and more of an “I’m not sure.” 

“I… not good, Kevin. Things aren’t looking good.” 

He reached out to calm the hand now tearing at the edge of the coffee sleeve. “I heard about what Dr. Klempner had said. She really thinks it’s going to be soon?” 

Betty felt the tears well up in her eyes, but she fought to keep them back, behind the walls of her eyelids like a soldier hiding scared behind a trench. She was going to get through this, somehow. 

“Yeah, apparently. Jellybean’s not responding to the treatment like we thought she would. The infection is taking its toll on her body. I was hoping the antibiotics would have done some good, but there’s already too much damage done. Her kidneys are starting to shut down. She has no appetite, even after the chemo has stopped. I’m doing everything I can, trying everything I can try, to figure out some way to make her better, but I just can’t. I just feel so defeated, Kev.” 

“Betty, you’re one of the best nurses I know, especially here on this unit. You put your all into something, a true perfectionist, when it comes to caring for your patients. You can’t beat yourself up about this. You’ve done all that you could.” 

Betty nodded, though his words were failing to breach the barrier of her guilt that was beginning to build up inside her. 

Kevin cleared his throat. “What about her brother? How’s Jughead doing?” Betty’s eyes snapped up, detecting the underlying question beneath Kevin’s inquiry. 

“He’s doing okay.” She exhaled. “Well, if I’m being honest, he’s a fucking wreck. I don’t know how he’s going to handle all of this. I’m just trying to be strong for him, give him whatever it is that he needs to deal with all of this, this stress and sadness.” 

Kevin’s fingers began to smooth out the creases in Betty’s tightened grip around her coffee cup, a comforting gesture from friend to friend. “It’s obvious you care about him, Betty. I know you’ll find whatever it is you need to find within you to help him out.” He leaned back after feeling her relax, and reached for his own coffee cup to take a sip, his eyes dancing across the top to watch Betty’s reaction. 

“You know you’re not allowed to be on that case anymore, right?” 

Betty tensed up again momentarily before relaxing, sinking down into the chair. 

“I hate to do that to you, but you know it would be a violation. You’re too close to this whole thing.” He took another sip. “You three act like a _family._ ” 

Betty nodded, feeling the easy blush begin to spread. “I know, Kevin. And it’s fine. I don’t care. As long as I get to be here in some capacity, I don’t care.” 

There was another beat of silence. 

“You love him, don’t you?” 

Betty looked down at the lid to her cup, examining the dried coffee that had stained around the mouthpiece. Though she knew it was true, it was hard for her to say it out loud to someone else. That’s when it went from true to _real._

“Yeah – yeah, I do.” 

“Then you need to know you both have the support of everyone here.” 

She looked back up at him, and there was a seriousness dancing around the halo of love and support that she saw there in his eyes. They had been good friends since high school, and Kevin had been the one to suggest she work for this unit when she was interviewing for nursing jobs. Betty was there the night Kevin met his partner, now husband, and had encouraged her friend to approach his dark-haired beloved from across the bar when Kevin was still a shy college kid afraid of rejection. They stood by each other when sifting through the murky matters of adulthood, and Betty had always been appreciative of his steadfast loyalty and support. 

“I mean it, Betty. If you need more time off, need us to get you guys anything, you just let us know. Jellybean’s been here for a while and all of the staff have come to care for her immensely.” He set his coffee cup down and folded his hands together, a shadow of sadness drifting across his face. “We’re all incredibly saddened to hear about what’s going to happen.” 

Betty reached out this time, laying her hand over his bunched up ones. “Thank you Kevin. For everything, always.” 

They stood and hugged, a gesture filled with so much warmth and love that Betty felt herself begin to shake with sorrow. She had to swallow back the quaking that threatened to spill over right there in the arms of her friend. There would be a time for grieving. Now was not it. 

They broke their embrace, Kevin returning to his seat while Betty straightened out the wrinkles of her t-shirt. “I should probably get back to them. I desperately need a shower and should probably go pick up some clothes for them at the house. Thanks again, Kev.” 

“Anytime, Betty. You know I’m here for you.” 

Betty nodded and smiled, taking a step for the open doorway. 

“Betty – “ Kevin muttered. She pivoted softly, turning to face him. 

“Just don’t forget to take care of yourself, too.” 

She stood there for a moment, letting his words sink in. He knew as much as she did that this death would devastate her. She was so used to caring for the families when their children had passed, quick to check her grief at the door until it was time to leave and she was safe within the confines of her own apartment. However, she had grown so close to Jughead and Jellybean, Kevin was right. _They did feel like a family._ Betty knew when the time came for family to be cared for after Jellybean passed, she’d be one of the people needing emotional support. 

Without another word, Betty slipped out of Kevin’s office, making her way back to her _family._

\----------------------------------------------------------------

**Song: “Someone in the Dark” by Michael Jackson**

Two weeks later, Betty awoke, startled, disturbed with the sudden urge to breathe, afraid she had forgotten something. The air didn’t feel right. Something didn’t feel right. 

The room was dark, the mattress next to her empty except for the gray crown beanie on the pillow beside her. She could just make out the clock above the bathroom. _5:25 am._ She sought around in the blackness and found Jughead on a stool, hovering over the edge of Jellybean’s bed. He was sweeping a cool washcloth lightly across her brow, his arms tucked over the railing, while his other hand held onto JB’s, his thumb softly brushing across her wrist like a gentle hush. The picture of Jughead and Jellybean from the drive-in was propped up on the bedside table, looking like it had been crumpled lightly with tense and shaky hands. 

Betty blinked and stared up at the monitor above the bed. 

Sometime over the night, her respirations had slowed, reading at six breaths a minute. Her heart, once overclocking to make up for the lack of work performed by her other vital organs, had slowed down, and her temperature had increased, the impending signs of passing. Betty rubbed her hands over her face, the pit of her stomach now bottomless and empty. 

She knew the time had come to say goodbye. 

She slumbered over to stand beside Jughead, kneeling down to unhook the railing underneath his arms. 

“Here,” she whispered. “This will give you room to get closer.” 

He jumped lightly at her presence, lost in the moment of being alone with his sister. He looked up at Betty for only a second, afraid to take his eyes off of JB for too long, and thanked her. She nodded. This time was about them. She wanted to give him every chance to say goodbye the way she knew he wanted. 

The door opened softly, a mild beam of light inching into the room to brush gently across Jellybean’s face. Betty could see her eyes were closed, small bruises littering her shadowed scalp, the skin beneath her eyes a soft purple. Without noticing, Betty reached up with her right arm and placed her hand to her chest. 

The night nurse, Josie, came in quietly, and edged the door back silently to close it. She reached up to press the tiny lit buttons on the pain pump connected to Jellybean’s IV, sending another dose of medication through the tubing directly into the little girl’s veins. She tucked the tubing to the side, out of the way, before shuffling over to Betty. 

“Hey, has she just started?” The silent word “ _declining_ ” wasn’t said, but Josie could read between the lines. 

Josie nodded briskly, turning her attention to the little girl, the two adult women standing arm against arm, watching another death unfold before them. Betty watched Jughead, knowing this was new for him, this was going to be painful. She closed her eyes and nearly wept for him. 

“This started about an hour ago,” Josie whispered. “I don’t think we’ll have much longer now.” 

Betty nodded and understood. She took her position, stepping up to stand beside Jughead’s hunched body. She placed one hand on his shoulder, watching Jellybean slumber beneath them. Jughead stopped rubbing the cloth over her face, setting the rag aside. He brought that hand back and laid it over Betty’s wrist. He was grateful for her strength, for her presence. 

Betty felt a light tap on her left arm and pivoted to face Josie, her hand still embraced with Jughead’s. 

“Is there anything I can get for you guys right now?” 

Betty shook her head. The most important thing right now was making sure Jellybean was comfortable, that they had the privacy to share their last moments. 

_As a family,_ Betty thought, desperate for it to be true. 

They stayed put for what felt like hours, Jughead nestled on a stool beside JB’s bed, Betty standing over him, offering her grace through the hand on his shoulder. A snapshot of sadness, highlighted by the soft haunting glow of the sunrise as the clock rounded to six. 

Just as the sun’s rays began to awaken, Jellybean aroused. Betty could hear Jughead inhale slowly. 

His hand left Betty’s, bringing it to JB’s temple and smoothing short slow strokes over her skin. 

“Hey baby,” he whispered, a weak smile on his face, and Betty could tell he was trying hard not to break down. 

Jellybean opened her eyes gently, just barely parted, and the corners of her lips turned up as she found her brother. 

“Hey jerk,” she muttered, a small cough escaping her tiny mouth. He laughed next to her, his body rustling under the tension he had built watching her fade away. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked, continuing to caress her brow. She shuffled a little, her head turning in to his touch as her eyes closed. 

“Like Hell,” she said cheekily, the fire still there in her spirit. She peeked up at him, opening one eye playfully. He chuckled again in response. 

“Hey, this is my last chance to say it,” she whispered, and immediately Jughead felt like she had squeezed the inside walls of his chest. 

There was a silence that passed, Jughead trying to give her as much rest as possible. She slipped back into sleep for another few minutes before she awoke again, a seriousness spread over her face, pain slipping in to bypass the medication. 

She found Jughead again, his eyes trained on her face. “Is it going to hurt, J?” 

He closed his eyes, his lip beginning to tremble. He sucked in a breath, convincing himself to stay strong for her, and leaned in. His forehead touched hers and he pressed a kiss lightly to her skin. 

“It’s not going to hurt, baby. You’re too _tough_ to feel any pain, my girl.” 

Soft drops began to shed themselves down Betty’s cheeks. She tightened the grip on Jughead’s shoulder. 

Jellybean nodded, the most subtle of gestures. 

“Did I make you happy?” Jughead heard her whisper. He laced his fingers through hers. 

“Of course,” he replied. “You’ve made my life have purpose, you snotty little shit.” 

They both chuckled, JB’s laughter coming out as a hoarse whisper. 

Jughead stared into her eyes, his lips quivering. “You gave me a reason to never give up.” 

Jellybean nodded again, and Betty could almost read her mind. Just as it was important for Jughead to provide a happy life for Jellybean, Betty knew Jellybean wanted the same for her brother. Beyond the body of a nine year-old there was maturity and wisdom, the watchful eyes of a child born into a family of dysfunction seeing and knowing way too much sorrow. 

“You did good, J,” Jellybean stuttered, the words drifting away as she tumbled into sleep once more. 

He brought his lips down to kiss her hand and rested his head on the bed next to her pillow. 

Betty thought about coaxing him to sleep, but she knew he wouldn’t, and she didn’t want to rob him of this moment. Instead, she pulled a chair closer to him and sat, reaching back to rub soft comforting strokes down his spine. 

The clock neared 6:43 am, the sound of ticking and the soft rustle of his sweatshirt from her caress filling the room around their silence. Betty got up from her chair and lifted the curtain up slowly, allowing in the glow of the morning. Suddenly, Jughead spoke, so soft it was nearly a whisper. 

“At least she has one more sunrise left in her. It’s a beautiful one, too. It’d be a shame for her to miss it.” 

Betty watched as his eyes stayed glued to Jellybean’s chest, watching her breathe. He looked detached, as if he had ceased to process the moment and was just saying the first thing that came to his mind. As the once pale shade of the walls turned from pink to orange to yellow, Betty had to admit, though, that he was right. 

The small patches of grass painted on the walls came alive, and Betty was grateful Jellybean would have a beautiful, peaceful place to die. The little panther peeking out from the bushes was still smiling, and Betty felt the little lift of hope that came from an expected passing. Despite its nefarious reputation, Betty knew there could still be beauty in death. 

Jellybean began to stir again, but this time felt different. Betty’s insides squirmed with intuition and she reached out to lay her hand on Jughead’s arm. His head lifted from the bed, quick to catch JB’s eye. 

“Where’s Hot Dog?” she asked, and he retrieved the small stuffed dog from somewhere between the layers of her bedsheets. 

“He’s right here, JB,” he replied softly, leaning over to tuck the stuffed dog underneath her right arm. He reached for the toy T-Rex, bringing it into her line of sight. 

“Do you want to say goodbye to Mr. Cuddles?” 

Jellybean shook her head, coughing lightly. “No, he promised he’d come with me.” 

Jughead smiled, positioning the dinosaur beside her under her left arm situated just above the covers. “Okay then. I’m glad you’ve got a protector. Together, you’ll be unstoppable.” 

A smile flashed across his face before it softened, and he became more somber. A single tear fell from his eye. 

“I wish I was coming with you, baby.” 

In response, JB tossed her head from side to side in a “no,” the most energy she had shown in hours. 

“You’ve gotta be here, though.” Betty thought she saw Jellybean look her way, though it may have been a trick of the daylight coming in. “You’ve gotta build one last fort for me,” she coughed, “on the roof by the telescope.” 

“Anything, baby. Anything for you.” Jughead’s voice began to crack, and he knew the end was here. 

Jellybean closed her eyes for a single moment before they opened wide, finding him one final time. 

“I love you, Jug,” she said, one soft tear falling from her cheeks. He swallowed and took a deep breath, leaning forward to press his forehead to hers again. Behind him, Betty felt her heart within her begin to crumble. 

Jellybean smiled, the sweetest, softest smile Betty had ever seen. 

“Come find me, J” she whispered, using her last breath to tell him goodbye. “I’ll be in the stars.” 

\----------------------------------------------------------------

And then there was silence, the purest form of silence imaginable. No sound, no breathing, a peaceful eerie calm that enveloped them like an embrace – the calm of death. 

They sat there for seconds, minutes, hours, saying no words and showing no other signs of life than the soft sobbing that came from Betty’s lips. Jughead was still pressed against his sister’s forehead, now cold and lifeless, and he could swear his heart had stopped beating the moment hers did. 

He was absent of pain, absent of feeling, absent of thought other than the keen, sharp reality that Jellybean had just passed and she was gone. Finally, his body gave in and he began to shake. He let out a terrible wail that he didn’t see coming, his body quivering violently, and he pressed his head closer to Jellybean’s, wishing more than anything his tears could bring her back to life. 

Hours later, after Jughead’s tears had ceased, the day nurse Ethel came in, softly tiptoeing over to whisper her apologies to Betty and Jughead, tears slipping down her cheeks. Betty felt her slip an arm around her side, and she leaned into the hug, trying so hard to keep it together. Betty knew the time had come for them to take Jellybean’s body away from the hospital to the funeral home. 

She patted Jughead’s back to get his attention, but he stayed glued in place, not wanting to leave his sister’s body. He felt like he wanted to die right there beside her, the pain so bright and brilliant that he couldn’t reason living anymore. 

“Jug, it’s time. They need to take her to the funeral home.” Betty whispered consolingly, rubbing his back softly. 

“No,” she heard him reply, stern yet quivering. She thought he might cry again and waited to carry him through the sobs. Surprisingly, he kept his tears in check, numb on the outside while the torture set in internally. 

“Jughead, I know you don’t want to leave her, but… but you have to. Things are going to start happening here in a little bit to her body. You don’t need to see her like that.” 

“What difference does it make?” he muttered from beneath his embrace around Jellybean. “She’s already gone.” And then the tears came. “She’s already dead. It can’t get worse than that.” 

Betty sat in silence for a moment, not sure what else to say. Before she could drum up the words, Jughead released his hold on Jellybean, placing one last kiss on her forehead, his hot tears falling upon her cold skin. He leaned back in his chair then stood, finding the strength to keep his legs from buckling. Betty stood as well, placing her hand on his lower back to give him balance. 

He wiped the snot from his nose on the sleeve of his sweater. 

The funeral team came in, their faces appearing somber, the ushers of the dead. When the sheet of pink was placed over her face, Jughead thought he might crumple. 

As they wheeled her body out of the hospital room, Betty and Jughead stood still in the space, suddenly large with the absence of the hospital bed. Suddenly uncomfortably large with the absence of Jellybean. 

Without saying a word, Jughead reached down to grab the beanie from the couch and took a shaky step forward toward the open door. Betty watched as his mind began to race. Suddenly, on pure impulse, he ran out of the door and Betty knew he was fleeing. 

She reached down for the photo of the brother and sister, watching as a tear drop fell to cover their smiling faces. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was the worst day of his life, the kind of day every parent fears. Jughead Jones could only watch in horror as his sister, Jellybean, wrestled with a sickness that he couldn’t control. While dealing with the prognosis, Jughead couldn’t ignore the ray of hope keeping him grounded through the sadness in the form of Pediatric Oncology Nurse Betty Cooper. Can he learn to love while living in a nightmare? Can she learn to put aside her insecurities and conflicting feelings to fall for the father figure of her patient?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, you guys… I’ve never had such an amazing response to one of my stories, and this includes the stuff I wrote years ago. My entire collection. The love and support I’ve received for this fic is astounding. I just feel so blessed. It is so gratifying to hear that I did my characters justice by being genuine to the circumstances around them, and I’m glad it came off as believable. Death is such a touchy thing. Despite the sadness of her death, I’m glad I could give JB the dignified passing she deserves, and I’m so touched you all felt the “feels.” I’ve said it before, as much as I don’t like making people cry, it’s an honor as an author to hear that your writing has caused your readers to emote so strongly. Thank you, thank you, thank you from the depths of my heart.
> 
> Note: This was actually the second chapter I wrote, and I’ll be honest, I skipped an entire day of eating because I was so focused on getting the emotions right. Fair warning, this chapter is also incredibly angst-heavy. There are different stages of grief that people go through, especially when dealing with a significant loss, and again I hope I did our babies justice. I hope you enjoy. We only have one more chapter left after this one!
> 
> Also, I apologize in advance for this chapter being much shorter than the others. There’s so much sorrow in this one chapter, I don’t think I could have drug it out any further. You all don’t deserve that!
> 
> I do not own the rights to the Archie Comics or Riverdale, and the content of this story is strictly from my own imagination.

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Betty stepped up to the front door, her insides shaking, her nerves wriggling like angry swarms. In her hand, she clutched the photo, knowing Jughead would want it back. She knew he would be here, knew he would want to be somewhere close to any reminders of JB. She was so familiar with death and what came after, she knew what to expect. 

She thought about knocking, but knew formalities would not be recognized. She knew Jughead wouldn’t give a shit about manners right now. She couldn’t blame him. 

She turned the knob and pushed the door back, a bit surprised at its ease of opening. The house was a complete wreck. There were chairs tossed aside. The _Jurassic Park_ poster in the living room had been ripped down and the record player against the wall was barely situated on top of its stand, on the brink of crashing to the floor with the slightest touch. A song had once been spinning, but the record had been so scratched, the sound kept skipping. Betty approached it and turned off the player, pushing it back against the wall carefully. 

As she continued to take in the chaos of the space, she heard a crash come from the hall in front of her. Jughead came barreling out into the living room, the comforter from JB’s bed wrapped around his shoulders, the stuffed dog from the hospital clutched in his hands. They made eye contact and Betty felt the tears begin to well up in her eyes. 

Jughead was an absolute mess. His eyes were bloodshot and stained, his hair a disheveled sty, and there was a cut of unknown origins just below his left eye threatening to bleed. He watched her, wondering if she was going to fall apart in front of him. He didn’t give a shit if she did. He didn’t give a shit about anything. 

“Jug…” Betty whispered. 

“What are you doing here?” he answered coldly. 

She bristled at his response, not expecting his harsh tone or the lack of emotion in his voice. He continued to stare at her, no expression on his face other than apathy. If it weren’t for the tear marks dried on his cheeks, she would have suspected he felt nothing, that he had no heart. 

“Jug, I’m worried about you. You left the hospital witho--“

“There was no reason for me to be there anymore,” he responded quickly and blankly, but she could see the anger begin to boil up just below the surface. “There is no reason for me to be anywhere anymore.” 

She took a step toward him but he put a shaky hand up. “Don’t. Don’t you fucking come near me.” 

Betty swallowed the spit that had built up in her mouth, frozen to the spot. A single tear fell from her right eye and rolled down her cheek. 

Jughead felt guilty for cursing at her, but he had no idea what he’d do if she got close enough to touch him. He was a man with nothing -- nothing to gain, nothing to lose. He didn’t want his body to react before his mind did and strike her. As horrible as he felt about JB, there was still a part just below the surface of the grief that told him hurting Betty would only cause him more heartbreak. He could never hurt her that way. 

But he could push her away. 

She didn’t deserve him, didn’t deserve this shell of a man left empty with nothing to live for. His entire reason for breathing just took her last breath hours ago. 

He could never make Betty happy. How could he? He didn’t think he’d ever know what happiness was ever again. What did happiness even really mean? He thought that’s what he had with Jellybean, but that was snatched away. He had felt it before his father became an angry drunk, before his mother ran off. But that all changed. All of them abandoned him. All it taught him was that happiness was something that was fleeting. It wasn’t meant to stay put, at least not for him. He had his happy moment with Betty, there with her that night in her apartment, when they made love for the first time. He had the sparkle and the magic on the rooftop watching the stars, sharing that one embrace that made him realize he was in love with her. Now it was time for that happiness to end. At least this time he could control when that end occurred. 

“Jughead…. I’m so sorry. Jellybean was such a special girl,” she coaxed, hoping it would calm him to hear about the wonderful parts of his sister. She knew for some people, this helped with grieving. “She had such a zest for life. She would want you to live exactly like you did with her.” 

Jughead looked away and spoke softly, though there was insult dripping off his tongue. “Don’t presume to tell me what Jellybean would want. You didn’t know her, not really.” 

Betty let out a sudden sob, one she didn’t expect that jumped out of her chest and escaped past her quivering lips. “I did know her, Jughead. I loved her! I loved Jellybean, more than I expected to ever love a patient. She was more than that to me. You are more than that to me. I loved her, Jughead. Damnit,” she began to cry. “I love you.” 

He scoffed, a sound somewhere between a chuckle and an angry grunt. He faced her directly and caught her green eyes in the dangerous web of his blue. “You know, when I first saw you in the hospital that day, I thought you looked like an angel. You were so beautiful, _so fucking beautiful,_ and the way you worked with Jellybean, I thought you must be an angel to get through her thick stubborn head. She was never one to make a lot of friends. But then she got sick. She got sick! And you promised,” he began to sob, “you promised you would take care of her. And she died. _She fucking died._ ” He stared her down, sobs now ceasing, his face filled with nothing but disgust. “You’re nothing but the Angel of Death to me.” 

Betty felt like she had been slapped. The tears stopped falling, almost as if the well had been plugged with the vitriol spewing from Jughead’s mouth. In that instant, she felt like a fool for being there, for coming to him. 

“It was a mistake to be here.” And because she was grieving too, because she also felt like hurting someone else, she continued. “It was a mistake to love you.” 

Jughead felt the sting, a pain that had managed to slip past the barrier of numbness he had built up, but he couldn’t show it. He had to push her away. He had to give her a chance to have everything he could never have, could never give her. 

“Then what the Hell are you still doing here?” It was the last bit of anger he could target her with, and he prayed it would be enough for her to leave and walk away from him for good. 

Betty sniffled and threw her head up, finding a boost of confidence somewhere buried within herself. She took a step back and pivoted on her toes, turning toward the door. Just before she walked out of the apartment, she stopped, reaching down to set the photo in her hands down on top of the couch. She turned her head, enough to where she know he’d hear her last words. 

“Jellybean would be so ashamed of you right now.” 

And then she was gone. 

Jughead was left alone in a room that was well lit from the outside but felt so dark he thought he was going blind. He stared blankly ahead and fell back against the wall behind him in between the hall and the kitchen and slid down to meet the ground. 

He had been abandoned. He had been left behind. He was utterly and completely and simply alone. 

And here he was, pushing away someone else that loved him. He didn’t deserve love. He didn’t deserve to live. 

Somewhere, a clock was ticking, but the overwhelming silence threatened to drown and consume him. He sat against the hard surface of the floor, eyes empty, glaring at the bottle of scotch glaring right back from the corner bar across the room. Feeling like a ghost floating in an empty space, he stood and walked to the bar. He stared the bottle down, a war inside him that was growing, but figured what’s another internal war to someone constantly fighting? 

He threw back the top of the bottle and chugged, not stopping even when his eyes burned, even when his throat threatened to close up. He shut his eyes and felt the tears start to slip. He brought the bottle back down, removing his lips from the surface, before throwing it across the room. The crash came, a welcome response to the feeling of _numb_ that Jughead couldn’t escape. At least that bottle had felt something, could cause him to feel something. He eyed the shards of glass on the ground and thought about ending it. 

Who would care? What would it matter if he bled out on the carpet of his living room, the place where he had laughed so many evenings with Jellybean? God, he missed her laughter. He missed his sister more than absolutely anything. 

His heart took a violent lurch and he clutched at his chest. The pain was unbearable. He collapsed on the floor and suddenly everything released. The tears began to fall and would not stop flowing as he crumpled into a heaping, shaking mess on the floor. He rolled his face into the carpet and cried, imagining the tiny feet that once danced across its surface. He reached for a blanket from around his shoulders and inhaled the scent, dying to smell her one last time. 

His sister was gone. _His sister was gone. Sister was gone. Was gone._

_Gone._

It felt like forever before it all sank in. She would never walk back into their apartment, would never blare her music to annoying levels, would never demand he make her popcorn at 7 am on a Sunday morning, would never slap his arm at a weak attempt at a joke. 

She would never touch him again, and he would never touch her. He would never hug his sister again. 

Suddenly, Jughead realized this was his life now. 

A world without Jellybean was his world now. 

He had no one and no one needed him. 

For as long as he was alive and breathing, he was alone and Jellybean was gone. 

He stayed curled up in the ball on the floor and cried, his tears shedding like blood into the carpet, emptying him of all he had left. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------

**Song: “Grace” by Kate Havnevik**

It was nearly 10 pm and Betty couldn’t find the strength to drag herself off of the couch. She clung to the quilt she had pulled off of her bed earlier and wiped more of her tears on the hem, though she didn’t know how she had any tears left in her entire body. 

Betty stared deeper into the fire that burned in the simple brick fireplace nestled in her living space. 

Despite what Jughead had said, Betty meant every word about Jellybean. In the short span of their time together, she had fallen in love with the young girl, daring to fantasize about a world where she could fill the role of a mother figure that she so desperately craved. 

When she died, it had torn Betty apart from the inside out, not only the death of a beautiful and bright young girl, but the death of a beautiful and bright future Betty had dreamt for herself. It felt so selfish to feel so devastated about the end of a dream when Jellybean had just died, but Betty couldn’t deny the pain she felt radiating through her entire body. After all, that future had involved Jellybean, and now that future was nonexistent. There was no chance for a healthy reunion with the girl. She was dead. 

And God, Betty felt everything. 

Just as she began to wail once more into a pillow buried beneath the quilt with her, she heard the soft knocking of a fist against her front door. She sucked back her last sob and sat up. She didn’t know who could be making house calls this late at night, but she wondered if maybe Veronica had heard about JB’s death through Archie. Deep down, though, Betty doubted Jughead even had the mental ability or the emotional strength to call Archie and give him the bad news. 

She dragged the blanket with her, the soft comforting scrap of material now becoming an extension of her devastated self, and walked to the door. She looked through the peephole but gave up, realizing she didn’t care what kind of fate remained on the other end of the patterned wood, and opened the door. 

There stood Jughead, looking so broken and hollow it made her heart hurt so immensely. He wore the same clothes she saw him in earlier, but he left behind JB’s comforter that he had been using as a type of shroud. She noticed his beanie was in his hands, though she was surprised they could hold anything at all. His entire body looked limp, and his eyes drooped so low and sad. 

He looked up at her and she could see, despite how blown apart he appeared, there was still a storm brewing behind his deep blue eyes. He took a step toward her, his face suddenly breaking out into an expression resembling that of a beaten down dog, and his knees buckled. As he collapsed forward, she caught him, throwing back the quilt, throwing back any reservations she had held after their last hurtful encounter, wanting nothing more than to envelope him in her arms and offer him the warmth he was without. 

His arms slowly came up to wrap around her back and they stood in their embrace, and he began to weep. Betty’s throat closed, shut down by the giant lump forming, and her mouth grimaced up, crumpling inward, and the tears came. 

They stood there in a moment that felt like an eternity. Almost in sync, their heads lifted up and turned to each other. She caught him in her gaze for the briefest of seconds before his lips fell down upon hers, and they met each other with the same song of sadness playing across their lips and their tongues. 

There was no pulling back, no saying “no” tonight. Betty didn’t want to question anything in this very moment, only wanting to give Jughead the strength to keep breathing if only for a few more hours. 

Jughead felt absolute surrender. He had drained out all of the rage back at his apartment and felt carved out. He wanted to _feel_ again, wanted to know there was something to keep him alive while he planned to bury the only person in his life who had loved him unconditionally. He showed up at Betty’s door, not because she could temporarily fill a hole that seemingly had no end, but because despite his doubts, there still remained that nagging notion that maybe someone else could love him too. 

Their kisses were sweltering, but the pace soft and slow. They danced a dance not many people dance, the dance of true and utter grief, and they clung to each other like each step was life or death. Jughead moved forward as Betty edged backward, and suddenly he found the strength to pick her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist. 

They landed on the soft sheets of her bed, a lonely tumble they could get lost in together. He nibbled on her jawline and she closed her eyes, releasing simple sighs in reaction to his touch. His breath caught for one second, and Betty thought for a moment that he might start crying again. She opened her eyes and there he was, looking down at her with an expression that broke her heart. 

There, mixed with the sadness and the turmoil and the ache, was love. 

She reached up to brush back the strand of hair that always fell into his eyes, caressing the skin of his temple with a gentle touch, and his eyes shut slowly as if finding comfort in this exchange. When his eyes opened back for her, she was ready, and she returned the love that she had for him so big she felt it burst through the walls she had built within her. 

Without a word, as there was nothing left to say that couldn’t be said through their eyes, Jughead leaned back down as she lifted back up and their lips met. His hand slid down her side and grasped her thigh, so gentle it made her want to weep. She lifted further up off of the sheets to kiss down the column of his neck, his face now buried in the mess of her hair, and she could hear him breathing her in. 

She brought her hands to the hem of his sweater and he leaned back, allowing her room to remove it completely. He wore nothing beneath, and she could almost see the emotional scars that haunted him littering the skin around his heart like silvery constellations. When he leaned back down to meet her body, she planted a kiss above his heart and a tear fell from her eyes so simply, she didn’t realize it had happened. 

She took the hem of her oversized sleep shirt and peeled it off of her and watched as his haunted eyes filled with color for the first time today. She was naked underneath, not bothering with a bra when she came home in utter emotional shambles, and when his lips came down to crash against the skin of her chest, she praised her foresight. 

He continued to place soft kisses and tongue caresses over her breasts, and he could feel her quivering beneath him, could feel the flutter of her heart through her skin. He turned his head and placed his ear in between her breasts. And there he found Betty. 

She came alive, wrapping her hands around his back and holding him against her, running her nails through the skin so gentle, so easy. While his ear remained pressed to her heart, his hand travelled lower, dipping beneath the soft cotton of her panties and finding home there in her warmth. He could hear her heartbeat climb higher and higher as he worked his magic. 

She brought one hand to his hair, running her fingers through the raven-colored nest that had been tangled up through the tempest he had built in his apartment. She absentmindedly worked to smooth out the bits and pieces, a maternal warmth in her shining through to console the heartbroken man above her. She moaned out in response as his fingers continued to slide through the silken sanctuary she had opened just for him. 

He missed her lips and brought his mouth back to hers. The kiss was filled with so much sorrow and love. He slipped out from her warmth, his fingers glistening with her, and he crawled back to untie the drawstring of his sweatpants before pulling them off, tossing them to the side with no regard, as she removed her last shred of clothing. 

There was no light turned on in the bedroom, the only source of sight provided by the warm rays coming from the living room fireplace. To Jughead, Betty looked so beautiful, bathed in the shadows and the waves of firelight that danced over her naked body and silken hair like a halo. 

Jughead meant what he had said. He did think she looked like an angel. 

He glided over her into her open, welcoming arms, like a homecoming. She lifted her legs up and he slid into her, no pretense, no questions asked. He was simply coming back to the one place he felt alive. She was warm and wet and inviting, always inviting, and he found pure security there in her arms, there in her velvet warmth that held him tightly to her. 

They began a rhythm that came naturally, and soon after there had been such an outpouring of pain, there was no hurt left, only true beauty. With every push and pull of their union, Betty and Jughead were pulling themselves together through their grief, both mourning a loss while their bodies celebrated life. 

He reached for her hands and she took them, an expression so natural she didn’t have to think about it. They clasped fingers, clasped eyes, and brought themselves to the edge. His strokes were soft and slow but steady, and the sounds they made together during their love making tugged at Betty’s heart strings, turning her on while causing her sorrow simultaneously. 

There in that little room, with so much sadness surrounding them, they drowned out the grief and found themselves again. 

Jughead could feel himself nearing the edge once more, and as Betty’s body began to give way, they both toppled over the cliff, clinging to each other for dear life, crying out in pleasure and love, landing softly in the gentle waves below. 

As Betty hugged him tight to her chest, his face buried in the crook of her neck, the proof of their union slowing dripping out in between her legs, she felt an uneasy peace, not knowing what this moment meant but knowing that, in grief, nothing mattered but the beauty you made with the time you had right then. 

“I love you…. I love you…. I love you,” she whispered into his ear as they drifted to sleep, him still inside of her, soft tears falling down both of their cheeks in unison. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------

When Betty awoke a few hours later, the fire dying off and producing little light, she found herself alone in the darkness. When she reached over across the bed for Jughead, she found he was gone. 

For a moment, she was speechless. She sat up on the side of the bed, still naked, feeling more vulnerable and weak than she had ever felt before. 

In that moment, she allowed herself to open up and grieve. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was the worst day of his life, the kind of day every parent fears. Jughead Jones could only watch in horror as his sister, Jellybean, wrestled with a sickness that he couldn’t control. While dealing with the prognosis, Jughead couldn’t ignore the ray of hope keeping him grounded through the sadness in the form of Pediatric Oncology Nurse Betty Cooper. Can he learn to love while living in a nightmare? Can she learn to put aside her insecurities and conflicting feelings to fall for the father figure of her patient?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay folks, here it is – the final chapter of this little fic. The angst isn’t completely over, but I hope you all find the resolution you were seeking. I want to thank you all again for your continued support and feedback on this story. You’ve boosted my confidence as a writer, and I’m already working on some other projects that I have in mind.
> 
> In case you were interested in reading anything else of mine, I have another WIP called “Snapshots” with currently 15 active chapters. I should be updating that fic shortly. I had to take a time out because this story, a inspirational baby of sorts, required my time and attention. It’s been a special story for me emotionally.
> 
> I thank you all for coming with me on this heartbreaking journey of love and loss, and I hope you all enjoy the final chapter! Reach out to me anytime on tumblr at elegantmoonchild. I’m always looking to make new friends! 
> 
> I do not own the rights to the Archie Comics or Riverdale, and the content of this story is strictly from my own imagination.

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**Song: “Today Has Been Okay” by Emiliana Torrini**

The day was sunny but just a bit gray, a bit overcast. _The perfect day for a funeral,_ Jughead thought bitterly. The sky reminded him of Jellybean, bright and inviting with just a touch of the Jones darkness he had fought so hard to keep her safe from. As he kicked a small pebble with his scuffed up dress shoe, walking up the gravel path to the cemetery hill where JB was to be laid to rest, Jughead thought he had done a terrible job. Misfortune found everyone from his family and misery had spared no one. 

The ground around her grave was green and healthy. _Ironic,_ he thought. She had been so young, just like the grass, covered still in the dew of the morning, but her illness had claimed her so swiftly like a breeze. The cold air caught in his lungs and clutched at his heart. He looked up to the sky. _Is this what dying feels like, Jellybean?_ The thought had him shivering and near tears. 

A mass of people, dressed in black, followed him in procession to the gravesite, all silent and floating across the ground like a ghostly parade. Despite the sea of people, all there to pay their respects to him and to his dead sister, Jughead felt a loneliness so crushing and empty, he wished he could just hold his breath and drown in it. 

Never to open his eyes and feel anything anymore ever again. 

They formed a circle around the casket, centered just above the opening in the ground. As the officiant began the eulogy, encouraging attendees to participate in prayer, Jughead thought how surreal it was that his sister was in a box five feet away from him. He had pulled out all of the stops for her final resting place. The casket was made with a shiny Cherrywood, its color rich and deep with ornate carvings in the side. The inside, where her peaceful body rested, was thick with plush purple silk and velvet. He made sure Mr. Cuddles was tucked in beside her, just as she had wished. 

He had ordered a marble headstone with carvings of his sister’s face mixed with scenes of two T-Rexes fighting and dogs frolicking in the grass. _It was what JB would have wanted,_ Jughead thought. Around them, purple orchids littered the space above where the casket was positioned. They were Jellybean’s favorite flowers. 

The officiant droned on, and Jughead looked up to see Betty standing on the other side of the casket. Beside her sat a girl slightly older, situated in a wheelchair with a simple mask over her mouth and nose. She had the trademark Cooper curls, blonde and wispy, and her eyes were green like Betty’s. Jughead knew it must be her sister, out of the facility for the day to attend the funeral. Jughead was glad Betty had come and that she had someone there to comfort her. He had done a poor job of it up to this point. 

After he had shown up at her place a few days ago, beaten down and feeling completely downtrodden, she had allowed him to lick his wounds and find sanctuary there within her home, within her body. _Within her heart._ And then, like a coward, he had fled in the middle of the night, afraid to let her know how much it meant that she let him in, afraid to watch the little family he had made with her dissipate into ashes. 

There had been radio silence on both ends since then. Jughead knew Betty was giving him space, but as he watched her weep across the gravesite, he knew she needed her own time to grieve. They had both lost someone incredibly dear and now they were losing each other. 

She looked up and they made eye contact. Jughead’s insides, once firm and cold with anger and sadness, were now alive and warm with nerves. He missed her. In the nights since Jellybean died, when he found himself curled up in the places he would crumple in his apartment, he missed Betty. He missed the feel of her skin when she held his hand, missed the comforting touch of her rubbing his back all of those days and nights he felt like falling apart. She had given him strength, and now without her he felt empty and hollow and weak. 

Jughead knew he didn’t deserve her, didn’t deserve the love she had given him. The love he had so spitefully thrown back in her face, the love he couldn’t be brave enough to return with words. When they had laid together in her bed that night, the firelight dancing across her skin, the words had dried up in his throat. She was so beautiful, like a dream, and she was radiating love like a glow of golden treasure. He was dark and gray and stormy, rain that would inevitably turn her gold into rust. As much as he loved her, as much as he ached for her, she deserved better. 

Jughead tore his eyes away and Betty could feel her heart rip apart within her. Jughead looked so different, almost like a boy trapped in a nightmare, calling out for help that never came. Beside him stood a tall and somber Archie, who had traded in his letterman jacket for a three-piece suit, but Betty knew Jughead would feel like he was on an island all alone. 

She felt a hand reach over to grab hers and looked over to see Veronica watching her with careful eyes. Ever since Jughead had left her bed, Betty had fallen into a spiral of deep, nearly uncontrollable despair. Veronica had spent the last few days camped out with Betty at her apartment, comforting her and soothing her to sleep when tears shook her body unmercifully. She had been surprised to see how affected her best friend had been by the young girl’s death, but Veronica knew that when Betty loved, she loved hard. As Veronica watched Betty and Jughead make sorrowful eyes at each other across the casket, she knew there was more than one loss that they were grieving. 

Betty curled her fingers in through Veronica’s, grateful for her presence, and laid a gentle hand on her sister’s shoulder beside her. Polly had been adamant about coming when Betty had filled her in on what had happened. For weeks, the sisters had been in touch, Polly always an emotional branch for Betty to lean on ever since they were kids. When she heard about Jellybean’s death, Polly knew this was her job, payback for all of the tender care Betty had shown her throughout her struggle with her illness. 

The three women stood as a symbol of strength, drawing in their energy with each other. Jughead thought they looked wondrous and powerful, instantly reminded of the girl who lay in the box before him, his beacon of feminine power for nearly the last decade. He took in a sharp inhale, on the verge of sobs, but stopped when he felt a firm hand press gently into his shoulder blade. 

Archie, who he had considered his brother, nodded to him. There was a message in his eyes. _You can get through this, man. Just hang on._ For the first time all day, Jughead felt like he wasn’t alone. 

The grip on his shoulder tightened, prompting Jughead to look up, look beyond the curve of people standing around the grave. A tall man, looking worse for wear, with dark black hair peppered with gray came stumbling up the hill. He was wearing a suit, dress shirt untucked, and the buttons of the coat were mismatched with their slots. There was a slightly crazed look in his eyes as he sobbed, but he kept himself in check. Jughead was waiting with quick feet, ready to pounce on his father. With the tug of Archie’s hand holding him still, Jughead reminded himself to keep the peace. 

His rage would have to rest for just a moment longer. He had to get through this for Jellybean. 

Betty followed his eyes and watched the man ascend the hill and take a place in the group between her and Jughead. He looked somber and sober, his face littered in whiskers like he hadn’t shaved in days. There were tears in his eyes, tears falling over his cheeks, and as he stood with his hands bunched together in front of him, clamped tight, Betty knew this must be Jughead’s dad. 

The resemblance was uncanny, a truth Betty suspected Jughead despised. He was dangerously handsome, but looked worn like an old shoe in a room of sparkle. His appearance, though disheveled, still suggested sobriety and Betty wondered if he had made amends with his addiction for Jellybean. She remembered the girl’s story, how she had told Betty that she had contacted her father weeks into her illness, scared to go without saying goodbye. Betty wasn’t sure how FP knew of his daughter’s ultimate demise, but as he sobbed silently, she had to admit she felt pity for the man. 

She could see Jughead itching for confrontation and she was thankful Archie was there to hold him back. She wanted more than anything to be beside him, comforting him with warmth instead of seeing him fill with cold blackness and anger. This day was meant for them to say goodbye to the beautiful girl who passed. She hoped he would remember that. 

It seemed he did as Jughead kept his thoughts contained and his body free from thrumming, the funeral proceeding on. Knowing Jughead wouldn’t have the strength to speak, Archie joined in with the officiant, offering up kind words about the little girl he had considered a little sister. Jellybean’s teachers and fellow students also piped up, sharing small memories. Jughead could feel the warmth spread across his fingertips, thankful she had so many people who considered her a friend. Thankful so many people realized she was as special as he knew she was. 

Finally, the time came for the casket to be lowered into the ground. Reaching into his suit pocket, Jughead pulled out the beanie he had used for years as a security blanket, the cloak he wore to shield himself from the miseries of his childhood. He stepped forward and placed the beanie on top of the casket, his eyes boring into the dark color of the wood. Suddenly, he felt his knees buckle beneath him and he leaned forward, gripping onto the casket as his eyes filled with tears. 

Betty broke free from the embrace of Veronica and Polly, launching forward and around the casket, reaching Jughead before he could fall. She caught him in her arms as he nearly crumpled, and the feel of her around him was enough to keep him from collapsing entirely to the grass below. He found strength in his joints and stood, held up by Betty’s body as she hugged him fiercely, caressing the back of his head with soft strokes as he sobbed into her. For a moment, the three were reunited, Jellybean laying before them while the two adults grieved together. 

Then, as the casket began to lower into the ground, it was just the two of them. 

One by one, friends stepped forward to lay fresh flowers into the grave over the casket. Betty pulled Jughead back, giving them space for their embrace. His body shook and the front of her black dress became covered with his tears and snot, but she didn’t care. This was the only thing that mattered now that Jellybean had been laid to rest. 

As the crowd began to thin, Jughead continued to cling to Betty for comfort. The soft breeze of a cold spring snap danced across their bodies, but there was a warmth there between them that could not be extinguished. 

FP approached, and Betty could feel Jughead tense up beneath her. He pulled his head from her chest, wiping his eyes and nose with his suit jacket. 

“What the Hell are you doing here?” he spat, staring at FP with murder in his eyes. 

The older gentleman cleared his throat, withering beneath his son’s glare. “I’m sorry, son. I just wanted to come say goodbye to my baby girl.” 

Jughead closed his eyes and yelled out, his words dripping with venom, “I’m not your son!” He broke out of Betty’s sheltered embrace, and his body shook with adrenaline. “And she wasn’t your baby girl. Jellybean was _my_ baby girl. She was _mine!_ I was her father, not you.” 

FP looked like he had been slapped in the face, and Betty could see the Jones temper flare up beneath his skin. 

“Now just wait a minute, Jug –“

“Don’t – don’t act like you know me. We don’t know each other.” Jughead closed his eyes again, fighting to get a grip on himself. “How in the Hell did you know to come here? Huh? Why now?” 

FP searched the grass, almost afraid to answer. He cleared his throat again. “Jellybe—“

Jughead cut him off again. “Don’t – don’t you fucking say her name.” 

FP hesitated for a second, then continued. “She called me and told me she was sick. I saw her obituary mentioned in the paper. I… I only wish I had gotten here sooner.” Betty could hear him begin to break down and sob. 

Jughead looked at him, daggers in his eyes. “You’re lying. And you don’t get to feel regret right now. You don’t get to feel guilt, not after all of this time without us.” 

Betty stepped up, pressing a gentle hand on his shoulder. She suddenly felt afraid, scared to lose the already weak connection she felt with Jughead since his breakdown. 

“Jug… he’s not lying.” 

Jughead whipped around to face her, his eyes mad and wide. “What do you mean?” 

“She… Jellybean told me she called your father.” She looked up at FP, caught his gaze in her own. “She said she wanted answers before she died.” 

Jughead shook, a new level of anger bubbling up and boiling over in his gut. 

“When was this? Why didn’t you tell me?” 

Betty began to cry, knowing his anger had turned on her. “She made me promise, Jug. It was right after we found out she was dying. I couldn’t break my promise to her.” 

“And what about your promise to me, huh? Your vow to remain _honest_ with me, no matter what, when it came to Jellybean? Did my feelings matter that little to you?” 

Betty rushed forward, anxious to show him how sorry she was with a comforting embrace. “No -- You know that’s not true, Jughead!” 

He stopped her before she could reach him. “Don’t.” He sighed, his eyes closed, his hand out in warning, needing space. After a moment thick with tension between the three adults there in the peace of the cemetery, Jughead broke the silence. 

“I can’t even look at you right now. Don’t follow me,” and he began to walk away. When he got to FP, he turned to face him, allowing himself a stern inhale. His voice was firm and foreign, miles away. 

“We have nothing left between us anymore. I don’t ever want to see you again.” 

And then Jughead was gone, descending the cemetery hill toward the black car waiting for him. Archie was standing beside it, holding onto Veronica, who stepped away when Jughead got to the car. Archie held the door open for him and he slipped inside, reaching for the car door handle and slamming it shut. 

Closing himself off from everything. 

Betty stood there, her black dress billowing in the wind, watching as Jughead drove off and out of her life. With little regard for the man still standing beside her, other than a look of intense pity and sadness, she followed down the hill to join Polly and Veronica parked under the shade of a tall evergreen. 

There, the three women found their strength again as they made their way to their vehicle and left behind the resting place of the dearly departed. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------

**Song: “Nowhere Warm” by Kate Havnevik**

Today was the first shiny day Betty had seen in weeks. A true sign of spring, Betty watched from the window of the cafeteria, sipping her newly purchased morning coffee, as children had gathered to frolic among the garden bushes and toss around an assortment of toys and balls with their parents in the play area. It felt like days since Betty had smiled, and the one that spread across her face was welcoming, the promise of something great to come. 

She pulled herself away from the window and made her way to the elevator down the hall. As it climbed up to the 7th floor, she began to reflect on the past few weeks. 

After leaving the funeral, she had taken a solid two weeks off of work, burying herself beneath a shroud of sheets and comforters, finding solace in mountains of ice cream and junk food. She was sure she had gained weight, though it had balanced out the pounds she had lost during those last few weeks of Jellybean’s life. The stress had burned enough off of her and her appetite had been minimal, so wracked with grief and impending sadness she couldn’t find herself to eat much. She had taken Polly back to her nursing home, but found herself back there several times over the course of the month, eager to find comfort in her sister’s conversation. Betty had even reached out to her mother on more than a few occasions, overwhelmed with surprise at the amount of love and gentle compassion Alice had shown her and her ordeal. She knew her daughter had lost a love and lost a child all at the same time. There was nothing about that situation that she could pick apart or criticize. 

Of course, Veronica and Kevin had made sure to perform nightly checks on her, rotating their schedules as if she were a dog that needed walking. Betty was grateful for their presence, but after a few days, she felt she was strong enough to be by herself. She began to find a positive comfort in her loneliness for the first time in her life. 

When she had returned to the hospital for work, it was initially hard to care for her patients. The charge nurses did a great job of balancing out her assignment, mindful to not place her with any actively dying children or those with overly emotional parents. She thought she could be irritated with them handling her with kid gloves, but truthfully she was thankful for their consideration. She wasn’t sure how she would handle watching another family play out the horror she had just experienced. 

Over time, however, Betty began to find the beauty again in caring for the ill, her true passion for nursing returning with a renewed strength. The smiles she got from her young patients and their appreciative parents filled her with a warmth she thought was forgotten. Where once she trudged along, shuffling from room to room with a fake layer of happiness covering her face, she now fluttered and danced, the spring in her step matching that of the genuine grin she wore throughout her shifts. 

She was even able to care for a patient in room 19, the room that had been occupied by Jellybean for so long – the room where Betty had found her heart and lost it in tatters. _Give it time,_ Betty thought, _and you’ll find that heart again._

Sometimes, Betty had to laugh at herself. She had fallen in love with the father figure of a dying child, something she told herself she would never do. Yes, it had been a true kind of love, one she didn’t think she would ever truly get over, but it had been so absurd to think there was a happy ending there for her. She knew herself enough to know once she jumped, she’d invest way too much into something that was never truly hers. Jellybean hadn’t been her child, hadn’t been her daughter, and Jughead was not her husband. They had just been people she had cared about immensely, and her role a minor one in their short time together. 

Then why did she feel miserable every time she thought about them? How could she describe the ache of a loss that felt so real, so true, it’s like someone had taken a spoon and carved out her heart from the inside? 

Though she found solace in being solo, each night before she went to bed she clutched her comforter tight and drowned the material in her tears and sobs. She had screamed into her pillows, thrashed about with anger and rage and disappointment. Sleep would come, eventually, but it was restless and empty. 

She had begun propping herself up with memories of Jellybean and Jughead, burrowing within the familiar hole of that wound, finding refuge in the pain each time she ripped off the scab and thought of them. But she knew that wasn’t healthy, and she had made a conscious decision to get better. 

She began to see a therapist, much like the therapist she had visited when she was first dealing with the knowledge of Polly’s illness. Over the stretch of days, she found she was able to feel happiness again, and work began to feel less like a chore and more of a privilege. 

When she stepped back onto the unit and settled behind the nurses’ station, she set her coffee cup aside and began to catch up on her charting. Ethel rolled her chair over to Betty and dropped a muffin beside her keyboard. 

“Here, it’s an extra if you want it. Came from the family of room 14. They’re really, really good.” Ethel licked away at the chocolate from the corner of her lips, the evidence of her own muffin lingering. Betty smiled. These little gestures were becoming part of her everyday routine, and she was grateful for the good juju. Her co-workers really had stepped up and shown their support when she had needed it most. 

It was early into the afternoon and Betty had just appeased her growing appetite with the remains of her muffin and the salad she had eaten behind the nurses’ station. She still couldn’t bring herself to eat a full lunch downstairs in the cafeteria after all of the lunch breaks she had taken with Jughead. She packed up her trash and tossed it, brushing off any crumbs as she stood. 

“I’m going to go check in on room 5,” she muttered to Ethel through the final bite of her lunch. She made her way into the patient’s room, knocking softly. The patient was a six year-old boy with another form of leukemia, though he had been responding to his treatments with vast success. His appetite was back, as Betty could see from the mountain of candy wrappers laying in his bed with him. 

“Jake,” she laughed. “I see you’ve found your sweet tooth again.” 

The boy grinned up at her, the promising amount of chocolate in between his teeth causing her to chuckle. To Betty, it was rewarding to watch other children find success where Jellybean’s body had not. In a way, Betty began to have hope again, and she knew Jellybean would be proud of how she had bounced back and found a way to care once more. 

Just as she was slipping out of the room, leaving Jake and his baby brother alone with their parents to watch cartoons, she heard a ruckus from down the hall. 

“Ooh,” she heard several kids shout in awe. Curiosity had her moving forward, her feet filled with a sense of lightness she hadn’t felt in a while. When she rounded the corner, she could feel her heart stop. 

There stood a tall figure in a T-Rex costume, carrying a giant bundle of purple orchids. The figure was handing the flowers out one-by-one to the children, who laughed and shouted. One of the girls, Lacey, had clutched the flower close to her chest in awe, and two boys Tommy and Bryce began to swordfight with them. The overwhelming brightness that radiated from the children hit Betty like a ton of bricks. Here, within the walls that had once been painted with sadness, was a moment of sheer joy, offered up to the sick children like candy. Parents gathered and laughed, and a few of the nurses had joined in, blushing like mad when the dinosaur handed them each a flower. 

Though she didn’t notice, her feet were carrying her forward, and eventually she found herself inches away from the tall figure. It turned to face her and there, through the thin veil of mesh just below the inflatable head, was a pair of familiar blue eyes, softer and warmer than she could have ever imagined. 

A tiny dinosaur hand reached up to pull away at the veil, and there he was. Jughead Jones, the man she had loved with every ounce of her soul, stood before her, causing her to fall all over again. The ice wall she didn’t realize she had built up became a melted puddle where she stood. He looked happier than he had looked when she last saw him, the color of his face back to olive, and his hair, dark and healthy, fell across his eyes gently. He looked like the man she had first met all of those days ago when sadness had first come knocking, and here he stood, a man who had closed the door on sorrow and embraced the light. 

When he smiled at her, she knew she had never and would never not love him. 

“Betty,” he said softly, a peaceful whisper that came out to soothe the cracks of her broken heart. He held out the rest of the flowers for her, the salve to heal all wounds. She looked down at the orchids and felt her heart skip a beat. These were Jellybean’s favorite, she had remembered from the funeral. He had managed to hold such a powerful reminder of his sister and not crumple before her. 

In her heart, she knew what these flowers meant. They were Jellybean, and he was offering them to her, letting her know she belonged – offering her _family._

She took the orchids, bringing them to her nose and inhaling their scent. There was a magic there that lifted, coming off the pollen and surrounding them, and she knew Jellybean was there with them. 

Through the opening of the costume, Jughead watched her, anxious for her response. He swallowed a lump in his throat when she brought the flowers to her lips, kissing the petals gently. He had missed her almost as much as he had missed Jellybean. Somewhere in his grief, he had lost the notion that while weeping for the dead, he was neglecting the living. There, in the space between them, Betty was so alive, nearly glowing from a strength he had always admired. 

In the weeks after JB’s passing, he found himself holed up in his apartment, dreading the prospect of the outside world. He wore the same clothes for days, forgot to shower, and spent hours clutching the stuffed dog Jellybean had loved, a piece of her she had left for him. After the third week of wallowing in misery, he was interrupted by Archie who came barreling into the apartment with firm words for his best friend. After a few hours of weeping, and a night of getting obliterated from booze, Jughead woke the next day with a renewed sense of purpose.

Jellybean had been his life, but he wasn’t dead yet, and where there were once wishes of termination now resided a feeling of faith. His sister hadn’t left him to fall apart into tiny pieces and never find happiness again. She made him promise to build another fort, find her in the stars, all signs pointing that she wanted him to continue to find joy in the moments they had once shared together. He would go on living, go on to find the source of warmth that she had filled him with. 

That Betty had filled him with. 

He cleaned up the apartment, finding the strength with the help of Archie’s presence, and put back together the pieces of his life that had cracked and broken. He replaced the photo of him and his sister inside his wallet instead of the frame in his bedroom. He didn’t want to lose the memory of her spark, so he would keep a reminder wherever he went. 

He started writing again, finding solace in his words, a kind of cathartic therapy as he told the tale of a child once ill with cancer now strong enough to grace the pages of his newest venture, children’s books. It wasn’t a path he had ever expected, but once he began to type, he couldn’t stop, falling into the ease of _author_ with grace. 

Through it all, he knew he was missing a piece of him still. He knew he would never feel whole again without having Betty in his life. His stubborn, pitiful side fought to convince him to leave her be, that she deserved more than he could ever give, that he was worthless and would only hurt her more. However, after doing lots of literary reflecting and a few heart-to-hearts with Archie, Jughead realized he was being a coward, just like his dad had been. The brave thing to do would be bet against the odds, fight for Betty, and show her and himself that he could be the man she put her faith into, the man she fell in love with. 

He knew losing Jellybean had been hard for her. He could see in her eyes when the three of them were together that what she craved most was belonging – _family._ He wanted to give it to her, give himself and all he was and all he would ever be, because he loved her, because somehow in their grief and suffering she had become part of him. 

Betty stared up at him through the costume at a loss for words. The moment between them dragged on, a sparkling anticipation glistening in the space between their bodies. Just as Jughead began to clear his throat, Betty jumped. 

Leaning forward, she reached into the costume with her lips and found his, warm and familiar. _Home._

The urge to cling to the kiss for dear life melted away, and the ease between them became natural. This was real, this was true. This was easy, and this was right. Betty knew it. Jughead knew it. 

This wasn’t urgent and frantic, grasping for time they had little left of. Instead, this was normal and peaceful, so casual, like they had their entire lives to kiss just like this. 

As they pulled away, Jughead brought the T-Rex hands up to cup her face, and she laughed, leaning into his palm with a soft sigh. 

“Betty, I love you.” 

Her heart did a backflip and she smiled. _Finally._

She looked up at him, finding a fullness there in his eyes, knowing what he said was true. There was love there between them. There always has been and always will be love between them, come what may. They had proved that. 

“I love you too, Jughead.” 

The cheers around them, the giggles of the children running about, enveloped them, swirling around like a soft mist that glowed with love. 

They kissed again, embracing with lips that whispered words of hope and promise as they found life within each other once more. 


End file.
